TEbeftEttbor  Sbaftespeare 

EDITED  BY 

WILLIAM   ALLAN  NEILSON 

AND 

ASHLEY   HORACE  THORNDIKE 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •   BOSTON   •   CHICAGO    •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA    •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON    •    BOMBAY    •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
OF  CANADA,  LIMITED 

TORONTO 


Ube  Uutor  Sbaftespeare  * 


the  plays  and  poems,  each  under  the  special  editorship  of  an  American 
scholar.  The  general  editors  are  WILLIAM  ALLAN  NBILSON,  Ph.D., 
LL.D.,  President  of  Smith  College,  and  ASHLEY  HORACE  THOBN- 
DIKE,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D.,  of  Columbia  University. 

Romeo  and  Juliet  —  The  GENERAL  EDITORS. 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  —  JOHN  W.  CUNLIFFE,  D.Lit.,  Profes- 

sor of  English,  Columbia  University. 
Macbeth  —  ARTHUR  C.  L.  BROWN,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  North- 

western University. 
Henry  IV,  Part  I  —  FRANK  W.  CHANDLER,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 

lish and  Comparative  Literature,  University  of  Cincinnati. 
Troilus  and  Cressida  —  JOHN  S.  P.  TATLOCK,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 

lish, University^  Michigan. 
Henry  V  —  LEWIS  F.  MOTT,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  College  of  the 

City  of  New  York. 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  —  HARRY  M.  AYREB,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Pro- 

fessor of  English,  Columbia  University. 
As  You  Like  It  —  MARTHA  H.  SHACKFORD,  Ph.D.,  Associate  Professor 

of  English  Literature.  Wellesley  College. 
Coriolanus  —  STUART  P.  SHERMAN,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Uni- 

versity of  Illinois. 
Henry  VI,  Part  I  —  LOUISE  POUND,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Eng- 

lish, University  of  Nebraska. 
Henry  VIII  —  CHARLES  G.  DUNLAP,  Litt.D.,  Professor  of  English  Lit- 

erature, University  of  Kansas. 
Comedy  of  Errors  —  FREDERICK    MORGAN  PADELFORD,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 

fessor of  English,  University  of  Washington. 
King  John  —  HENRY  M.  BELDEN,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Uni- 

versity of  Missouri. 
King  Lear  —  VIRGINIA   C.  GILDERSLEEVE,  Ph.D.,  Dean  of  Barnard 

College. 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing  —  WILLIAM  W.  LAWRENCE,  Ph.D.,  Associate 

Professor  of  English,  Columbia  University. 
Love's  Labour's  Lost  —  JAMES  F.  ROYSTER,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 

lish, University  of  North  Carolina. 
Henry  IV,  Part  II  —  ELIZABETH  DEERTNQ  HANSCOM,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 

fessor of  English,  Smith  College. 
Richard  II!  —  GEORGE  B.  CHURCHILL,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 

Amherst  College. 


The  Winter's  Tale — LAURA  J.  WTLIB,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
Vassar  College. 

Othello  —  THOMAS  M.  PABBOTT,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Prince- 
ton University. 

The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  —  MAETIN  W.  SAMPSON,  A.M.,  Gold- 
win  Smith  Professor  of  English  Literature,  Cornell  University. 

All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  —  JOHN  L.  LOWES,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, Washington  University,  St.  Louis. 

Richard  II  —  HABDIN  CBAIQ,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  University 
of  Minnesota. 

Measure  for  Measure  —  EDGAB  C.  MORRIS,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, Syracuse  University. 

Twelfth  Night  —  WALTER  MORRIS  HABT,  Ph.D.,  Associate  Professor 
of  English,  University  of  California. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  —  FREDERICK  TUPPEB,  Jr.,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  University  of  Vermont. 

Julius  Csesar  —  ROBERT  M.  LOVETT,  A.B.,  Professor  of  English, 
University  of  Chicago. 

Timon  of  Athens  —  ROBERT  HUNTINGTON  FLETCHER,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English  Literature,  Grinnell  College,  Iowa. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  and  Lucrece  —  CABLETON  BBOWN,  Ph.D.,  Pro- 
fessor of  English,  Bryn  Mawr  College. 

Henry  VI,  Part  III  —  ROBEBT  ADGEB  LAW,  Ph.D.,  Adjunct  Professor 
of  English,  the  University  of  Texas. 

Cymbeline  —  WILL  D.  HOWE,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English,  Indiana 
University. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  —  FRED  P.  EMEBY,  A.M.,  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish, Dartmouth  College. 

Titus  Andronicus  —  ELMEB  E.  STOLL,  Ph.D., 

Pericles  —  C.  ALPHONSO  SMITH,  Ph.D.,  Edgar  Allan  Poe  Professor  of 
English,  University  of  Virginia. 

The  Sonnets  —  RAYMOND  M.  ALDEN,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
University  of  Illinois. 

Hamlet  —  GEORGE  PIEBCE  BAKER,  A.B.,  Professor  of  Dramatic  Lit- 
erature, Harvard  University. 

Henry  VI,  Part  II  —  CHABLES  H.  BABNWELL,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of 
English,  University  of  Alabama. 

The  Tempest  —  HERBERT  E.  GREENE,  Ph.D.,  Professor  of  English, 
Johns  Hopkins  University. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra  —  GEORGE  WYLLYS  BENEDICT,  Ph.D.,  Associate 
Professor  of  English,  Brown  University. 


-I 
1 


ELIZABETH  DEERING  HANSCOM,  PH.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH   IN   SMITH  COLLEGE 


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prtnttU  June,  1912 


—  The  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV  first  appeared  in 
a  quarto  entitled  "  The  Second  part  of  Henrie  the  fourth, 
continuing  to  his  death,  and  Coronation  of  Henrie  the  fift. 
With  the  humours  of  sir  John  Falstaffe,  and  swaggering 
Pistoll.  As  it  hath  been  sundrie  times  publikely  acted 
by  the  right  honourable,  the  Lord  Chamberlaine  his  ser- 
uants.  Written  by  William  Shakespeare.  London. 
Printed  by  V.  S.  for  Andrew  Wise,  and  William  Aspley. 
1600.'*  Although  there  were  six  quarto  editions  of  The 
First  Part  of  Henry  IV  between  1598  and  1623,  this  quarto 
of  1600  is  the  only  form  in  which  The  Second  Part  is 
known  to  have  appeared  before  the  Folio  of  1623.  Thirty- 
nine  lines  which  appear  in  the  Quarto  are  not  found  in 
the  Folio,  which,  however,  contains  one  hundred  and 
seventy-one  new  lines.  These  lines  may  have  been 
omitted  from  the  Quarto  for  abridgment  of  the  acting 
version,  as  one  or  two  of  the  excisions,  notably  I.  i.  189-209, 
are  awkwardly  managed  "  cuts."  A  number  of  differences 
are  accounted  for  by  the  increasingly  strict  enactments 
against  profanity,  obscenity,  and  biblical  allusions  on 
the  stage,  in  consequence  of  which  the  Folio  text  was 
purged  of  some  of  the  grossness  of  the  Quarto.  There 
are  two  forms  of  the  Quarto,  in  one  of  which,  obviously 
by  accident,  Act  III.  sc.  i.  is  omitted.  The  text  of  the  com- 
plete Quarto  is  used  as  the  basis  of  the  present  text,  the 
additions  from  the  Folio  being  inclosed  in  brackets. 
vii 


3|ntroDuctton 

Date  of  Composition.  — The  connection  between  the 
two  parts  of  Henry  IV  in  material,  treatment,  and  style 
is  so  intimate  as  to  enforce  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
written  in  immediate  succession;  indeed  they  are  more 
nearly  one  ten-act  play  than  two  five-act  plays.  If  1597 
be  accepted  as  the  year  of  composition  of  The  First  Part,1 
this  affords  a  date  after  which  The  Second  Part  was  written. 
In  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  Out  of  his  Humour,  V.  ii., 
occurs  a  reference  to  Justice  Silence  which  fixes  the  com- 
position of  The  Second  Part  before  1599,  the  year  in  which 
Jonson's  play  was  first  performed.  Between  1597  and 
1599  then  we  must  place  it.  But  The  First  Part  was 
entered  on  the  Stationers'  Register  on  February  25,  1598, 
as  containing,  in  addition  to  historical  material,  "  the 
conceipted  mirthe  of  Sir  John  Falstoff."  Evidently  then 
the  change  of  the  name  from  Oldcastle  to  Falstaff  had  been 
made  prior  to  the  entry  of  The  First  Part.2  But  in  the 
Quarto  of  The  Second  Part,  the  prefix  Old  stands  before 
a  speech  of  Falstaff,  I.  ii.  137.  This  seems  to  show  that 
The  Second  Part  as  well  as  The  First  Part  was  written 
before  the  change  in  name,  and  that  a  carelessly  corrected 
copy  was  given  to  the  printer.  If  this  be  granted,  the  date 
of  composition  of  The  Second  Part  can  be  fixed  in  the 
latter  part  of  1597  or  in  1598  before  February  25.  The 
play  was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  Register  on  August  23, 
1600.  It  is  noticeable  that  this  is  the  first  play  entered 
on  the  Register  which  is  stated  to  be  the  work  of  Shake- 
speare. 

1  See  Introduction  to  The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV  in  this 
series.        2  Ibid. 


3|ntro5uctton  ix 

Sources  of  the  Plot.  _  For  fae  historical  material  of 
this,  as  of  most  of  his  English  chronicle  plays,  Shakespeare 
drew  from  Raphael  Holinshed's  Chronicles  of  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland,  apparently  from  the  second  and 
enlarged  edition  of  1587.  The  incidents  which  compose 
the  serious  action  of  the  drama  are  taken  in  their  outline 
from  the  Chronicles.^  Holinshed  refers  briefly  to  the 
sentence  pronounced  upon  the  Prince  by  the  Chief  Justice, 
but  the  version  of  the  story  containing  the  defence  of  the 
Chief  Justice  and^  the  Prince's  recognition  of  his  equity 
is  given  fully  in  Sir  Thomas  Elyot's  Gouvernour,  1531. 
The  fact  that  later  investigation  has  not  found  a  com- 
pletely satisfactory  historical  basis  for  it  does  not  invalidate 
its  dramatic  value.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  in 
this  play,  as  elsewhere,  Shakespeare  takes  most  generous 
liberties  with  time,  compressing,  changing,  rearranging 
to  suit  the  purpose  of  his  play,  and  that  dramatic  time  and 
historic  time  are  constantly  confused. 

Several  of  the  incidents  had  already  appeared  in  a  play 
entitled  The  Famous  Victories  of  Henry  the  Fifth,*  acted 
before  1588  and  licensed  for  printing  in  1594.  In  this 
are  found  the  first  dramatization  of  the  sentence  on  the 
Prince,  the  King's  lament  for  the  fate  of  England  under 
the  rule  of  his  wayward  son,  and  his  pleas  to  the  nobles 
for  leniency,  the  incident  of  the  stealing  of  the  crown,  and 

1  The  most  convenient  edition  of  the  Chronicles  is  Shakspere's 
Holinshedy  the  Chronicle  and  the  Historical  Plays  Compared,  by 
W.  G.  Boswell-Stone.    London  and  New  York  :  1896. 

2  This  play  is  accessible  in  the  Shakespeare  Quarto  Facsimiles, 
edited  by  P.  A.  Daniel.    London  :  1887. 


x  3|ntroimction 

the  consequent  reconciliation  of  the  dying  father  and  the 
repentant  son.  Here  also  the  coronation  procession  is 
cheered  on  by  the  jovial  salutations  of  two  former  com- 
panions, Ned  and  Tom,  whom  the  King  banishes  after 
bestowing  on  them  moral  advice.  This  play  is  extremely 
crude,  lacking  both  the  finish  of  expression  and  the  insight 
into  character  that  frequently  enliven  the  pages  of  the 
Chronicles. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  as  is  frequent  with  Shakespeare, 
the  main  incidents  of  his  play  had  appeared  in  an  earlier 
dramatic  as  well  as  in  narrative  form.  In  a  few  places 
the  spirit  of  the  present  play  seems  to  owe  something  to 
its  sources;  more  rarely  there  is  verbal  indebtedness; 
but  in  general  the  sources  furnish  the  merest  framework 
which  Shakespeare  fills  out  with  dramatic  action  and  ani- 
mates with  personal  motive.  This  is  especially  noticeable 
in  the  scenes  between  the  King  and  the  Prince.  A  com- 
parison of  the  versions  of  the  stealing  of  the  crown  in  the 
Chronicles,  The  Famous  Victories,  and  The  Second  Part 
of  Henry  IV  strikingly  illustrates  the  meaning  of  dramatic 
selection  and  expansion,  and  convinces  one  anew  that  a 
dramatist  is  great  not  because  of  what  he  invents,  but 
because  of  what  he  vivifies. 

Local  and  Personal  Allusion*.  —  Both  the  tavern  scenes 
and  those  located  in  Gloucestershire  abound  in  local 
allusions.  In  the  former,  Shakespeare  was  drawing  on 
his  intimate  knowledge  of  London,  a  knowledge  which 
most  of  his  audience  shared,  and  doubtless  there  are  far 
more  contemporary  and  local  references  than  any  antiquary 
can  now  discover;  in  the  latter,  he  made  use  of  the  store 


3jntroouction  xi 

of  memories  he  had  brought  from  his  boyhood  in  the  coun- 
try. Although  in  Warwickshire,  Stratford  is  almost  on 
the  border  of  Gloucestershire;  the  Cotswold  district,  fa- 
mous for  its  athletic  sports  (III.  ii.  24)  is  easily  accessible ; 
Hinckley  (V.  i.  26)  and  Barston  (V.  iii.  94)  are  neighbor- 
ing towns;  then  as  now  the  Visor,  or  Vizard,  family  lived 
at  Woodmancote,  which  is  still  pronounced  Woncot 
(V.  i.  42);  and  in  the  sixteenth  century  their  neighbors, 
the  Perkes  family,  occupied  a  place  still  known  as  "The 
Hill  "  (V.  i.  43JT  Justice  Shallow  is  usually  taken  to  be  a 
caricature  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  of  Charlecote,  but  the  pas- 
sages which  give  color  to  this  identification  are  in  The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor* 

The  Name  of  f  distaff.  —  The  name  of  the  comedy  hero 
of  these  plays  was  originally  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  but  was 
changed  to  Falstaff  before  the  publication  of  The  First 
Part,  but  not  before  the  composition  of  The  Second  Part. 
(See  page  viii,  supra.)  The  facts  regarding  Sir  John  Old- 
castle,  the  probable  reasons  leading  to  the  change  of  name, 
as  well  as  the  facts  regarding  the  historical  Sir  John 
Fastolfe  of  Caister,  have  been  given  in  the  Introduction  to 
The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV  in  this  series,  and  need  not  here 
be  repeated.  It  is  agreed  that  Shakespeare's  creation 
owed  his  later  name,  the  punning  allusion  to  his  original 
name,  "  my  old  lad  of  the  castle,"  his  connection  with  the 
Boar's  Head  Tavern,  his  size,  and  his  cowardice  (although 
history  is  here  traduced)  to  these  two  historical  person- 
ages. In  an  article  on  "  The  Two  Sir  John  Fastolfes  " 
in  the  Royal  Historical  Society  Transactions  for  1910, 
L.  W.  Vernon  Harcourt  sought  to  p/ove  that  there  is  still 


xii  3|ntroDuctton 

another  historical  foundation  for  this  character,  also  that 
the  story  of  the  Prince's  madcap  insult  to  the  Chief  Justice 
may  have  more  authoritative  ground  than  has  hitherto 
been  conceded  to  it.  As  has  been  stated  above,  this 
story  first  appeared  in  1531,  nearly  a  century  and  a  quarter 
after  it  could  have  happened.  But  Mr.  Harcourt  has 
shown  by  contemporary  records  that  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  IV,  before  the  Scrope  rebellion  of  1405,  Sir  John 
Fastolf  of  Nacton  and  Sir  John,  Lord  Cobham,  the  father- 
in-law  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  were  involved  in  contempt 
of  court,  as  a  result  of  which  Fastolf  was  committed  and 
bound  over  to  keep  the  peace.  If  this  were  the  basis  of 
Elyot's  story  of  the  Prince's  intervention  in  behalf  of  one 
of  his  favorites,  the  identification  would  go  far  to  prove 
the  historical  original  of  Shakespeare's  Falstaff;  but, 
as  the  author  of  the  article  acknowledges,  the  story,  while 
" highly  probable,"  "is  not  strictly  proved."  Sir  John. 
Oldcastle,  Sir  John  Fastolfe  of  Caister,  Sir  John  Fastolf 
of  Nacton,  one,  two,  or  three  of  them  may  have  furnished 
suggestions;  even  grouped  as  a  tripod,  they  make  but  a 
slender  base  for  so  colossal  a  monument  of  wit.  Sir 
John  Falstaff  remains  Shakespeare's  own. 

Historical  Basis.  _  The  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV  opens 
with  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Shrewsbury,  which  was 
fought  July  21,  1403.  From  there  the  King  hurried  north 
and  met  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  who  submitted  to 
him  at  York,  August  n.  In  1405  Northumberland  and 
Bardolph  joined  in  open  revolt;  and  Archbishop  Scrope  and 
Thomas  Mowbray,  the  Earl  Marshal,  roused  Yorkshire 
against  the  King,  who  turned  back  from  Wales  to  encoun- 


3IntroDuctton 


ter  them.  Before  he  arrived,  however,  the  Earl  of  West- 
moreland had  broken  the  rebellion  at  Shipton  Moor, 
May  29,  1405.  After  an  irregular  trial  both  Scrope  and 
Mowbray  were  executed.  Another  revolt  of  Northumber- 
land and  Bardolph  was  crushed  in  1408,  and  this  put  an 
end  to  rebellion  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  But  a  long 
series  of  illnesses,  beginning  in  1404,  had  enfeebled  the 
King's  health,  and  prolonged  disagreement  with  parlia- 
ment embarrassed  his  position.  He  seems,  however,  to 
have  planned  a  crusade  as  late  as  October,  1412.  He  was 
unable  to  transactjmsiness  at  his  last  parliament,  sum- 
moned in  February,  1413.  While  in  Westminster  Abbey 
he  was  seized  with  a  fit,  was  removed  to  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber,  and  died  there  on  March  20,  1413. 

After  his  valorous  action  at  Shrewsbury,  Prince  Henry 
was  greatly  in  favor  among  the  English  people,  and  by 
request  of  parliament  was  entrusted  with  the  command  on 
the  Welsh  border.  Owing  to  this  popularity  and  the 
increasing  illness  of  his  father,  a  proposal  was  made  in 
the  parliament*  of  1410  that  the  King  should  abdicate  in 
favor  of  the  Prince.  Shortly  after  this  his  power  seems 
to  have  been  much  checked,  his  place  in  council  was  taken 
by  his  brother  Thomas,  and  for  a  year  or  two  history  knows 
little  of  him.  He  was  crowned  April  9,  1413.  The  story 
of  his  wild  youth  can  be  traced  back  to  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, and  has  become  so  much  a  part  of  the  national  hero 
as  to  be  accepted  as  history. 

Stage  History.  —  From  its  very  nature  The  Second  Part 
of  Henry  IV  could  not  well  be  popular  on  the  stage.  Not 


3|ntroimetfon 

alone  its  dependence  upon  The  First  Part,  but  its  manifest 
inferiority  in  all  points  that  make  for  theatrical  success, 
excludes  it  from  the  list  of  favorite  plays.  Yet  Falstaff 
seems  to  have  kept  it  alive,  even  during  the  reign  of 
Charles  II,  when  Shakespeare  was  comparatively  out  of 
vogue.  There  is  a  tradition  that  John  Heminge  (d.  1630) 
first  played  the  part  of  Falstaff.  John  Lowin  (1576-1669) 
is  known  to  have  acted  the  part,  "  with  mighty  applause," 
says  Wright,  in  his  Historia  Histrionica;  but  whether  in 
one  or  both  parts  of  the  play  does  not  appear.  At  the 
Restoration  Cartwright  acted  Falstaff  in  both  parts,  and  he 
was  followed  by  Lacy.  In  1700,  when  Betterton  ceased 
playing  Hotspur  on  account  of  his  age  and  took  the  char- 
acter of  Falstaff,  he  probably  appeared  in  both  plays.  He 
made  an  acting  version  of  The  Second  Part,  considerably 
changed  from  the  original,  which  was  acted  in  1720  with 
Mills  as  Falstaff  and  Booth  as  King.  Quinn,  who  was 
the  best  Falstaff  of  his  time,  chose  The  Second  Part  for 
his  benefit  at  Drury  Lane  Theater  in  1736;  and  other 
famous  comedians  who  appeared  in  this  play  during  the 
first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  Harper,  Love, 
Woodward,  and  Shuter.  Garrick  played  the  King  with 
Woodward  as  Falstaff  in  1758;  and  in  1804  John  and 
Charles  Kemble  played  the  parts  of  the  King  and  the 
Prince.  The  next  revival  was  in  1821,  when  a  magnificent 
representation  was  given  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  with 
highly  spectacular  interpolated  scenes  of  the  coronation. 
The  cast  included  Macready  as  King  and  Charles  Kemble 
as  Prince.  The  latter  actor  occasionally  essayed  the  part 
of  Falstaff,  but  unsuccessfully.  The  play  was  included  in 
Phelps's  repertoire  at  Sadlers'  Wells  Theatre,  London, 


3|ntroQuction 


XV 


between  1844  and  1862,  but  only  a  few  times  even  by 
that  persistent  reviver  of  Shakespeare. 

In  the  United  States  Falstaff  was  first  acted  in  the  winter 
of  1761-1762  by  David  Douglass  at  his  theatre  in  New  York. 
There  are  twenty-six  records  of  the  play  of  Henry  IV  in 
T.  Allston  Brown's  History  of  the  New  York  Stage  from  1732  to 
1901,  but  none  of  these  refer  specifically  to  The  Second  Part. 

Within  the  last  six  years  the  play  has  been  presented  by 
Mr.  Benson's  English  company  of  Shakespearean  players. 
It  is  only  as  a  "  revival,"  however,  that  it  is  put  on  the 
stage,  and  even^then  can  hardly  hold  the  attention  of  any 
save  the  scholarly  curious. 

Relation  to  the  Tetralogy.  _Richard  ^  1  and  2  Henry 

IV,  and  Henry  Fform  a  tetralogy  of  which  the  general  subject 
is  the  vindication  of  the  House  of  Lancaster.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  the  last  three  plays  were  written  in  imme- 
diate succession  and  followed  the  first  after  an  interval  of 
several  years.  There  is  a  separation  not  only  in  time,  but 
in  style  and  treatment,  between  Richard  II  and  the  other 
plays.  Its  problem  is  that  delicate  and  dangerous  question 
as  to  the  right  of  revolt,  and  this  problem  is  worked  out 
with  psychological  subtlety  and  political  casuistry,  ex- 
pressed with  lyric  grace;  a  closet  drama  almost,  in  its 
fineness  and  delicacy,  lacking  the  dramatic  requisites  of  a 
controlling  figure  and  unity  of  action  centering  around  that 
figure.  The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV  shows  the  insecurity 
of  the  usurping  king,  beset  by  foreign  and  domestic  foes, 
and,  above  all,  harassed  by  bitter,  brooding  dissatisfaction 
with  his  own  son  and  heir.  Another  element  is  brought 


xvi  3|ntrofiuctfon 

in,  not  new  to  the  English  drama.  As  far  back  as  the 
plays  drawn  from  the  Bible,  the  English  people  had  been 
accustomed  to  scenes  of  rough  local  and  contemporary 
comedy  alternating  with  serious  historic  action.  Shake- 
speare was  but  making  use  of  a  familiar  device  and  im- 
proving on  it  in  characteristic  fashion.  But  in  these 
scenes,  at  first  sight  so  extraneous,  the  character  of  the 
Prince  is  revealed;  here  quite  as  much  as  on  the  battle- 
field at  Shrewsbury  the  future  king  was  developing  those 
qualities  that  made  of  him  a  national  hero.  It  is  in  this 
way  that  the  play,  composed  of  such  apparently  diverse 
elements,  is  unified;  or  rather  this  is  the  contribution  of 
the  comedy  scenes  to  the  tetralogy. 

The  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV  has  no  such  character 
interest  as  has  The  First  Part.  The  Prince  has  met  the 
challenge  of  fact  and  has  found  himself;  he  drifts  back 
for  a  time  to  the  taverns  but  the  old  life  has  lost  its  zest, 
and  the  new  duties  are  not  urgent.  The  themes  of  The 
First  Part  are  repeated  less  vigorously  in  The  Second  Part; 
but  Scrope's  rebellion  does  not  hold  our  imagination  as 
did  that  of  the  Percys;  and  the  tavern  scenes  lose  half 
their  fun  when  the  Prince  is  not  there  to  share  it.  The 
King  becomes  once  more,  or  rather,  perhaps  for  the  first 
time,  the  central  figure ;  and,  broken  in  body  and  spirit, 
cries  out  against  fortune  that  will  "  never  come  with 
both  hands  full."  In  the  bitter  review  of  his  course  the 
conscience  of  the  usurper  at  last  finds  utterance.  Then 
from  the  crowning  grief  of  his  life  comes  the  crowning 
satisfaction:  England,  whom  next  himself  he  had  loved, 
England,  over  whose  fate  he  had  poured  forth  his  last 


31ntroOuctton 

sighs,  is  to  be  saved,  and  saved  by  the  very  hands  from 
which  she  had  most  to  dread.  Out  of  the  misunderstand- 
ings and  half  truths,  the  accusations  and  confessions  of 
the  crown  scene  emerges  one  clear  note, 

"  You  won  it,  wore  it,  kept  it,  gave  it  me : 
Then  plain  and  right  must  my  possession  be."    / 

To  a  generation  of  casuists  the  conclusion  may  not  be 
clear;  to  the  Elizabethans  it  was'  triumphantly  satisfac- 
tory. The  play  of  Henry  V  is  an  epic  chant  of  vindication. 
Here  and  there  Shakespeare  returns  for  a  scene  to  some- 
thing like  the  style  of  Henry  IV;  here  and  there  for  a 
brief  moment  the  oil  method  of  character  contrast  is 
used  or  the  King  is  seen  in  relations  that  dimly  suggest 
the  days  of  his  jovial  youth;  but  as  a  whole  the  play  is 
heroic,  the  King  moves  in  epic  grandeur.  All  that  Richard 
should  have  been,  all  that  Henry  IV  longed  to  be,  this 
Henry  was,  by  the  grace  of  God  King. 

Interpretation.  —  For  the  character  of  the  Prince  this  play 
seems  to  begin  after  the  climax.  The  crisis  of  Shrewsbury 
has  no  counterpart  in  Part  II.  For  a  time  the  Prince 
rusts  in  inaction.  There  is  no  foeman  worthy  of  his 
steel ;  his  father,  harassed  by  illness  and  rebellion,  grows 
distrustful  again;  and  the  Prince  knows  too  well  that 
"  every  man's  thought"  would  echo  Poins's  judgment  of 
him  as  "  a  most  princely  hypocrite  "  if  he  should  express 
the  solicitude  he  sincerely  feels.  There  is  then  little 
light-heartedness  in  the  Prince's  merrymaking,  and  the 
tavern  scenes  read  almost  like  poor  imitations  of  those  in 
The  First  Part.  With  the  curt  farewell,  "  Falstaff,  good 


tfc 

.Xim 


xviii  Introduction 

night,"  the  Prince  passes  out  of  the  tavern  world  and  the 
door  closes  on  his  old  life.  It  is  in  the  scenes  with  his 
father  that  his  true  character  again  asserts  itself.  The 
fifth  scene  of  the  fourth  act  is  the  psychological  climax  of 
the  play,  not  brilliant  and  spectacular  like  that  of  The 
First  Part,  not  easily  understood  except  in  the  light  of 
e  whole  action.  With  the  third  act  begins  the  weaken- 
ing of  the  King,  passing  through  subtleties  of  gradation 
that  Shakespeare  well  knew  how  to  suggest ;  restlessness, 
irritability,  explanatory  and  exculpating  reminiscence, 
brooding  distrust  of  the  future,  sudden  flashes  of  vigor 
and  firmness,  until  the  broken  and  wearied  body  sinks 
to  sleep  that  is  deathlike  in  its  grimness.  Then  from  the 
cheerful,  bustling  outer  world  enters  the  Prince  and  is 
left  alone  to  keep  his  vigil  beside  that  quiet  figure  and 
the  crown  that  has  brought  it  low.  In  the  spirit  that  is 
to  animate  his  reign  the  Prince  assumes  the  crown,  and 
the  King  wakens  to  one  last  bitterness.  Then  comes 
the  swift,  tragic  revulsion  from  a  lifetime  of  reserve,  and 
the  pride  of  the  Prince  also  melts  in  a  flood  of  tenderness.  • 
Yet  even  here  the  Prince  does  not  reveal  his  innermost 
self  to  his  fathef ;  there  is  deeper  purpose  and  finer  feeling" 
in  the  soliloquy  in  which  he  assumes  the  crown  (IV.  v.' 
21-47)  than  in  his  apology  for  his  act  (IV.  v.  159-165). 

It  is  in  the  light  of  this  scene  that  the  previous  plays 
must  be  read  and  that  the  future  acts  of  the  young  King 
must  be  judged.  His  scene  with  the  Archbishop  rings 
true;  at  first  one  is  not  quite  so  sure  about  the  speeches 
with  which  he  banishes  Falstaff.  Perhaps  to  modern 
thinking  there  must  remain  a  protest  against  the  King's 


3|ntroBuctlon  xix 

moral  address;  that  at  least  we  and  Falstaff  might  have 
been  spared;  but  the  homiletic  habit  was  a  part  of  the 
English  drama,  inherited  alike  from  the  early  religious 
plays  and  from  Senecan  tragedy;  and  no  false  shame  or 
fear  of  being  adjudged  hypocrites  caused  Shakespeare's 
heroes  to  withhold  their  words  of  wisdom  or  of  warning. 
The  epilogue  suggests  that  Falstaff  was  to  go  with  the 
King's  army  to  France;  apparently  Shakespeare  did  not 
see  until  after  the  play  was  finished  that  the  part  of  Fal- 
staff was  played  out;  the  king  had  come  to  his  own,  and 
in  that  realm  he  must  reign  alone. 

The  character  of  Falstaff  defies  analysis;  we  may; 
admire  and  wonder,  but  we  may  not  define.  The  nearest' 
approach  to  satisfaction  in  that  line  was  made  by  Maurice 
Morgann  hi  the  eighteenth  century,  and  all  that  has  been 
done  since  seems  but  an  echo.  Yet  while  not  attempting 
to  add  to  the  countless  characterizations  of  this  consummate 
creation,  we  may  compare  Falstaff  of  The  Second  Part  with 
Falstaff  of  The  First  Part.  And  here  again  we  notice  that  we 
are  dealing  with  action  that  has  passed  its  turning  point. 
Falstaff  is  indubitably  grosser,  more  reprehensible ;  some- 
thing of  his  charm  has  vanished ;  the  glamour  is  less ;  and 
at  times  we  see  him  in  the  pitiless  light  of  fact.  In  the 
early  tavern  scenes,  the  Prince  alone  could  fully  appreciate 
Falstaff  Js  wit,  and  consequently  the  Prince  alone  could  bring 
it  to  full  expression.  Poins  and  Gadshill  and  Bardolph  were 
but  the  audience  before  whom  these  two  acted  their  never- 
flagging  comedy.  Keen,  flexible,  scintillating,  the  words 
flashed  and  darted  like  rapiers  in  the  hands  of  matched 
combatants;  and  if  the  Prince  was  confessedly  inferior, 


XX 


^Introduction 


at  least  he  made  Falstaff  play  manfully  to  prove  him  so. 
But  by  the  exigency  of  the  situation  the  Prince  is  no  longer 
a  whole-hearted  participant  in  the  tavern  scenes  of  The 
Second Part ,  and  withdraws  from  them  altogether  at  the  close 
of  the  second  act.  His  place  is  taken  by  minor  characters. 
Pistol,  with  his  ridiculous  medley  of  misquotations,  was 
doubtless  a  more  comic  character  to  those  who  recognized 
his  allusions  than  to  us  who  must  laboriously  get  them  up 
from  notes.  Mistress  Quickly  is  at  her  best  in  this  play, 
and  sets  a  standard  of  loquacity  and  verbiage  that  has  never 
been  surpassed.  Doll  Tearsheet,  doubtless  familiar 
to  most  of  the  audience,  is  a  direful  piece  of  realism. 
Falstaff  is  sent  into  the  country  to  raise  soldiers,  and 
there  meets  those  two  worthy  justices,  Shallow  and  Silence. 
And  now  behold  Sir  John  in  a  new  role,  urbane,  patron- 
izing, but  condescending  to  familiarity;  slightly  bored 
withal,  and  finding  relief  in  those  incomparable  soliloquies 
which  go  far  toward  raising  the  comedy  of  this  play  to  the 
level  of  that  of  The  First  Part.  The  portrait  of  Shallow 
is  astoundingly  realistic;  rural  old  age,  narrow,  fussy, 
obsequious,  full  of  distorted  memories  of  former  glory, 
has  never  been  more  faithfully  drawn.  It  is  from  these 
scenes,  droll  to  the  very  limits  of  Shakespeare's  power, 
but  with  no  faintest  connection  with  the  main  action  of  the 
play,  that  Falstaff  rushes  back  to  London,  exulting  in 
his  own  power,  threatening  "  woe  to  my  Lord  Chief 
Justice."  Then  the  swift  reversal,  and  the  hoary  old 
sinner  is  hurried  to  the  Fleet.  A  comedy  conclusion, 
if  that  were  all;  but  later  Shakespeare  saw  that  there 
was  more  in  this  story,  and  moved  by  something  —  was 
it  dramatic  insight,  a  feeling  of  aesthetic  propriety,  or  was 


3|ntroDuetion 

it  a  touch  of  the  real  love  that  so  many  since  have  felt 
for  Falstaff  ?  —  he  wrote  that  marvelous  description  of 
Falstaff 's  death  (Henry  V.  II.  iii.  9-28),  broad  and  almost 
brutal  in  its  comedy,  but  tender  and  pathetic,  even  tragic 
in  its  essence,  and  above  all  true  to  life.  And  just  as  in 
his  death,  so  throughout  the  two  parts  of  Henry  TV,  it 
is  truth  to  life  that  is  the  final  effect  that  Falstaff  produces 
on  us.  Other  comic  characters  have  been  humorous  and 
witty,  others  have  been  braggarts  and  cowards,  others 
have  been  absurd  physically  and  dazzling  intellectually, 
but  none  of  them  all  has  lived  as  he  has  lived  in  the  imagi- 
nations of  men  for  three  hundred  years. 


£>econa  part  of 

f  en*?  t^e 


[DRAMATIS  PERSON/C] 


RUMOUR,  the  Presenter. 

KING  HENRY  IV. 

HENRY,  PRINCE  [OF  WALES],  afterwards  crowned  King  Henry  V. 

PRINCE  JOHN  OF  LANCASTER,  )  8ong  to  Henry  IV  and  brethren 

[PRINCE]  HUMPHREY  OF  GLOUCESTER,  >  to  |jenry  y. 

THOMAS  [DUKE]  OF  CLARENCE, 

[EARL  OF]  NORTHUMBERLAND, 

[SCROOP,]  archbishop  of  York, 

[LORD]  MOWBRAY, 

[LORD]  HASTINGS, 

LORD  BARDOLPH, 

TRAVERS,  /  retainers  of  North- 

MORTON,   I      umberland, 

[Sm  JOHN]  COLVILLE, 

[EARL  OF]  WARWICK, 

[EARL  OF  WESTMORELAND,  | 

[EARL  OF]  SURREY, 

GOWER, 

HARCOURT, 

LORD  CHIEF  JUSTICE, 

[Sm  JOHN]   FALSTAFF,  ' 

His  PAGE, 

POINS, 

BARDOLPH, 

PISTOL, 

PETO, 


opposites  against  King  Henry  IV. 


\  of  the  King's  Party. 


irregular  Humourists. 


DAVY,  servant  to  Shallow. 

FANG  and  SNARE,  two  Sergeants. 

MOULDY,     ^ 

SHADOW, 

WART,          t  country  soldiers. 

FEEBLE, 

BULLCALF,  J 

LADY  NORTHUMBERLAND. 

LADY  PERCY. 

QUICKLY,  hostess  [of  a  tavern  in  Eastcheap]. 

DOLL  TEARSHEET. 

[Lords  and  attendants;  Porter]  Drawers,   Beadles,  Grooms  [Servants, 
etc.    A  Dancer  as]  Epilogue. 

[SCENE:  England.} 


Decent)  part  of 


INDUCTION 

\Warkworth.    Before  the  castle.] 
Enter  Rumour,  painted  full  of  tongues. 

Rum.   Open  your  ears  ;  for  which  of  you  will  stop 
The  vent  of  hearing  when  loud  Rumour  speaks  ? 
I,  from  the  orient  to  the  drooping  west, 
Making  the  wind  my  post-horse,  still  unfold 
The  acts  commenced  on  this  ball  of  earth.  5 

Upon  my  tongues  continual  slanders  ride, 
The  which  hi  every  language  I  pronounce, 
Stuffing  the  ears  of  men  with  false  reports. 
I  speak  of  peace,  while  covert  enmity 
Under  the  smile  of  safety  wounds  the  world  ;       10 
And  who  but  Rumour,  who  but  only  I, 
Make  fearful  musters  and  prepared  defence, 
Whiles  the  big  year,  swoln  with  some  other  grief, 
Is  thought  with  child  by  the  stern  tyrant  war, 
3 


tty  iFottrtl),  put  3131 

And  no  such  matter  ?    Rumour  is  a  pipe  15 

Blown  by  surmises,  jealousies,  conjectures, 
And  of  so  easy  and  so  plain  a  stop 
That  the  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads, 
The  still-discordant  wav'ring  multitude, 

: '  ,Can  play  upon  it.     But  what  need  I  thus  20 

'  My  'well-known  body  to  anatomize 
.  Among  my  household  ?     Why  is  Rumour  here  ? 
I  run  b£fofe  King  Harry's  victory, 
Who  in  a  bloody  field  by  Shrewsbury 
Hath  beaten  down  young  Hotspur  and  his  troops, 
Quenching  the  flame  of  bold  rebellion  26 

Even  with  the  rebel's  blood.     But  what  mean  I 
To  speak  so  true  at  first  ?     My  office  is 
To  noise  abroad  that  Harry  Monmouth  fell 
Under  the  wrath  of  noble  Hotspur's  sword,          30 
And  that  the  King  before  the  Douglas'  rage 
Stoop' d  his  anointed  head  as  low  as  death. 
This  have  I  rumour'd  through  the  peasant  towns 
Between  that  royal  field  of  Shrewsbury 
And  this  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone,  35 

Where  Hotspur's  father,  old  Northumberland, 
Lies  crafty-sick.     The  posts  come  tiring  on, 
And  not  a  man  of  them  brings  other  news 
Than  they  have  learn'd  of  me.     From   Rumour's 
tongues  39 

They  bring   smooth   comforts   false,    worse  than 
true  wrongs.  Exit. 


ACT  I 

SCENE  I 
[The  same.] 

Enter  Lard  Bardolph  at  one  door. 
L.  Bard.  Who  keeps  the  gate  here,  ho  ? 

\The  Porter  opens  the  gate.] 

Where  is  the  Earl  ? 
Port.  What  shall  I  say  you  are  ? 
L.  Bard.  Tell  thou  the  Earl 

That  the  Lord  Bardolph  doth  attend  him  here. 
Port.   His  lordship  is  walk'd  forth  into  the  orchard. 

Please  it  your  honour,  knock  but  at  the  gate,        5 

And  he  himself  will  answer. 

Enter  Northumberland. 

L.  Bard.  Here  comes  the  Earl. 

[Exit  Porter.] 
North.   What  news,  Lord  Bardolph?     Every  minute 

now 

Should  be  the  father  of  some  stratagem. 
The  times  are  wild  ;  contention,  like  a  horse 
Full  of  high  feeding,  madly  hath  broke  loose        10 
And  bears  down  all  before  him. 
5 


J|?mr?  tljr  3Fourt^  part  3131     Act  i 

Noble  Earl, 
I  bring  you  certain  news  from  Shrewsbury. 

North.   Good,  an  God  will ! 

L.  Bard.  As  good  as  heart  can  wish. 

The  King  is  almost  wounded  to  the  death ; 
And,  in  the  fortune  of  my  lord  your  son,  15 

Prince  Harry  slain  outright ;  and  both  the  Blunts 
KilTd  by  the  hand  of  Douglas  ;  young  Prince  John 
And  Westmoreland  and  Stafford  fled  the  field ; 
And    Harry   Monmouth's    brawn,    the    hulk  Sir 

John, 

Is  prisoner  to  your  son.     O,  such  a  day,    '  20 

So  fought,  so  follow'd,  and  so  fairly  won, 
Came  not  till  now  to  dignify  the  times, 
Since  Caesar's  fortunes  ! 

North.  How  is  this  deriv'd  ? 

Saw  you  the  field  ?     Came  you  from  Shrewsbury  ? 

L.  Bard.   I   spake  with  one,  my  lord,  that  came  from 
thence,  25 

A  gentleman  well  bred  and  of  good  name, 
That  freely  rend'red  me  these  news  for  true. 

North.   Here  comes  my  servant  Travers,  who  I  sent 
On  Tuesday  last  to  listen  after  news. 

Enter  Travers. 

L.  Bard.   My  lord,  I  over-rode  him  on  the  way ;         80 
And  he  is  furnish' d  with  no  certainties 
More  than  he  haply  may  retail  from  me. 


Sc.  i      tytnw  tlje  jfourt^  put  313]          7 

North.   Now,  Travers,  what  good  tidings  comes  with 
you? 

Tra.   My  lord,  Sir  John  Umfrevile  turn'd  me  back 

With  joyful  tidings  ;  and,  being  better  hors'd,     35 
Out-rode  me.    After  him  came  spurring  hard 
A  gentleman,  almost  forspent  with  speed, 
That  stopp'd  by  me  to  breathe  his  bloodied  horse. 
He  ask'd  the  way  to  Chester  ;  and  of  him 
I  did  demand  what  news  from  Shrewsbury.          40 
He  told  me  that  rebellion  had  bad  luck, 
And  that  young  Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold. 
With  that,  he  gave  his  able  horse  the  head, 
And  bending  forward  struck  his  armed  heels 
Against  the  panting  sides  of  his  poor  jade  45 

Up  to  the  rowel-head,  and  starting  so 
He  seem'd  hi  running  to  devour  the  way, 
Staying  no  longer  question. 

North.  Ha !    Again. 

Said  he  young  Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold  ? 
Of  Hotspur  Coldspur  ?     That  rebellion  50 

Had  met  ill  luck  ? 

L.  Bard.  My  lord,  I'll  tell  you  what : 

If  my  young  lord  your  son  have  not  the  day, 
Upon  mine  honour,  for  a  silken  point 
I'll  give  my  barony.     Never  talk  of  it. 

North.   Why    should    that    gentleman    that   rode   by 
Travers  55 

Give  then  such  instances  of  loss  ? 


8          tymw  tlje  jfourrt),  ^art  3131     Acti 


L.  Bard.  Who,  he  ? 

He  was  some  hilding  fellow  that  had  stolen 
The  horse  he  rode  on,  and,  upon  my  life, 
Spoke  at  a  venture.     Look,  here  comes  more  news. 

Enter  Morton. 

North.  Yea,  this  man's  brow,  like  to  a  title-leaf,         60 
Foretells  the  nature  of  a  tragic  volume. 
So  looks  the  strand  whereon  the  imperious  flood 
Hath  left  a  witness'd  usurpation. 
Say,  Morton,  didst  thou  come  from  Shrewsbury  ? 

Mor.    I  ran  from  Shrewsbury,  my  noble  lord,  65 

Where  hateful  Death  put  on  his  ugliest  mask 
To  fright  our  party. 

North.  How  doth  my  son  and  brother  ? 

Thou  tremblest  ;  and  the  whiteness  in  thy  cheek 
Is  apter  than  thy  tongue  to  tell  thy  errand. 
Even  such  a  man,  so  faint,  so  spiritless,  70 

So  dull,  so  dead  in  look,  so  woe-begone, 
Drew  Priam's  curtain  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And  would  have  told  him  half  his  Troy  was  burnt  ; 
But  Priam  found  the  fire  ere  he  his  tongue, 
And  I  my  Percy's  death  ere  thou  report'st  it.      75 
This  thou  wouldst  say,  "Your  son  did  thus  and 

thus  ; 
Your  brother  thus  ;    so  fought  the  noble  Doug- 

las;" 
Stopping  my  greedy  ear  with  their  bold  deeds  ; 


Sc.  i      tymri?  fyt  jfourtlj,  ^art  313 


But  in  the  end,  to  stop  my  ear  indeed, 

Thou  hast  a  sigh  to  blow  away  this  praise,          80 

Ending  with  "Brother,  son,  and  all  are  dead." 

Mor.   Douglas  is  living,  and  your  brother  yet  ; 
But,  for  my  lord  your  son,  — 

North.  Why,  he  is  dead. 

See  what  a  ready  tongue  suspicion  hath  ! 
He  that  but  fears  the  thing  he  would  not  know  85 
Hath  by  instinct  knowledge  from  others'  eyes 
That    what    he    fear'd  is    chanc'd.      Yet    speak, 

Morton  f 

Tell  thou  an  earl  his  divination  lies, 
And  I  will  take  it  as  a  sweet  disgrace 
And  make  thee  rich  for  doing  me  such  wrong.      90 

M  or.   You  are  too  great  to  be  by  me  gainsaid  ; 
Your  spirit  is  too  true,  your  fears  too  certain. 

North.   Yet,  for  all  this,  say  not  that  Percy's  dead. 
I  see  a  strange  confession  in  thine  eye. 
Thou  shak'st  thy  head  and  hold'st  it  fear  or  sin  95 
To  speak  a  truth.     If  he  be  slain,  [say  so  ;] 
The  tongue  offends  not  that  reports  his  death  ; 
And  he  doth  sin  that  doth  belie  the  dead, 
Not  he  which  says  the  dead  is  not  alive. 
Yet  the  first  bringer  of  unwelcome  news  100 

Hath  but  a  losing  office,  and  his  tongue 
Sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell, 
Rememb'red  tolling  a  departing  friend. 

L.  Bard.   I  cannot  think,  my  lord,  your  son  is  dead. 


io         ^nirp  t\)t  jFourtij,  jpatt  3131     Act  i 

Mor.    I  am  sorry  I  should  force  you  to  believe  105 

That  which  I  would  to  God  I  had  not  seen ; 
But  these  mine  eyes  saw  him  in  bloody  state, 
Rendering    faint    quittance,    wearied    and    out- 

breath'd, 
To  Harry  Monmouth ;    whose  swift  wrath  beat 

down 

The  never-daunted  Percy  to  the  earth,  110 

From  whence  with  life  he  never  more  sprung  up. 
In  few,  his  death,  whose  spirit  lent  a  fire 
Even  to  the  dullest  peasant  in  his  camp, 
Being  bruited  once,  took  fire  and  heat  away 
From  the  best-temper 'd  courage  in  his  troops  ;  115 
For  from  his  metal  was  his  party  steel'd  ; 
Which  once  in  him  abated,  all  the  rest 
Turn'd  on  themselves,  like  dull  and  heavy  lead. 
And  as  the  thing  that's  heavy  in  itself, 
Upon  enforcement  flies  with  greatest  speed,        120 
So  did  our  men,  heavy  in  Hotspur's  loss, 
Lend  to  this  weight  such  lightness  with  their  fear 
That  arrows  fled  not  swifter  toward  their  aim 
Than  did  our  soldiers,  aiming  at  their  safety, 
Fly  from  the  field.     Then  was  that  noble  Worces- 
ter 125 
Too  soon  ta'en  prisoner ;  and  that  furious  Scot, 
The  bloody  Douglas,  whose  well-labouring  sword 
Had  three  times  slain  the  appearance  of  the  King, 
Gan  vail  his  stomach  and  did  grace  the  shame 


sc.  i      tytmy  t\)t  jfourtlj,  iparc  3131          n 

Of  those  that  turn'd  their  backs,  and  in  his  flight, 
Stumbling  in  fear,  was  took.    The  sum  of  all     131 
Is  that  the  King  hath  won,  and  hath  sent  out 
A  speedy  power  to  encounter  you,  my  lord, 
Under  the  conduct  of  young  Lancaster 
And  Westmoreland.     This  is  the  news  at  full.    135 
North.    For  this  I  shall  have  time  enough  to  mourn. 
In  poison  there  is  physic  ;  and  these  news, 
Having  been  well,  that  would  have  made  me  sick, 
Being  sick,  have  in  some  measure  made  me  well. 
And  as  the^wretch,  whose  fever-weak'ned  joints, 
Like  strengthless  hinges,  buckle  under  life,          141 
Impatient  of  his  fit,  breaks  like  a  fire 
Out  of  his  keeper's  arms,  even  so  my  limbs, 
Weak'ned  with  grief,  being  now  enrag'dwith  grief, 
Are  thrice    themselves.      Hence,    therefore,  thou 

nice  crutch  !  145 

A  scaly  gauntlet  now  with  joints  of  steel 
Must   glove  this  hand ;    and  hence,   thou  sickly 

quoif  ! 

Thou  art  a  guard  too  wanton  for  the  head 
Which  princes,  flesh'd  with  conquest,  aim  to  hit. 
Now  bind  my  brows  with  iron  ;   and  approach  150 
The  ragged'st  hour  that  time  and  spite  dare  bring 
To  frown  upon  the  enrag'd  Northumberland  ! 
Let  heaven   kiss  earth  !      Now  let  not  Nature's 

hand 
Keep  the  wild  flood  confin'd  !    Let  order  die  ! 


t\)t  jfourtij,  part  3131     Act  i 

And  let  this  world  no  longer  be  a  stage  155 

To  feed  contention  in  a  lingering  act ; 

But  let  one  spirit  of  the  first-born  Cain 

Reign  in  all  bosoms,  that,  each  heart  being  set 

On  bloody  courses,  the  rude  scene  may  end, 

And  darkness  be  the  burier  of  the  dead  !  160 

[Tra.]   This  strained  passion  doth  you  wrong,  my  lord. 

L.  Bard.   Sweet  Earl,  divorce  not  wisdom  from  your 
honour. 

Mor.   The  lives  of  all  your  loving  complices 

Lean  on  your  health  ;  the  which,  if  you  give  o'er 
To  stormy  passion,  must  perforce  decay.  165 

[You  cast  the  event  of  war,  my  noble  lord, 
And  summ'd  the  account  of  chance,  before  you 

said, 

"Let  us  make  head."     It  was  your  presurmise, 
That,  in  the  dole  of  blows,  your  son  might  drop. 
You  knew  he  walk'd  o'er  perils,  on  an  edge,       170 
More  likely  to  fall  in  than  to  get  o'er  ; 
You  were  advis'd  his  flesh  was  capable 
Of  wounds  and  scars,  and  that  his  forward  spirit 
Would  lift  him  where  most  trade  of  danger  rang'd  ; 
Yet  did  you  say,  "Go  forth  !"  and  none  of  this,  175 
Though  strongly  apprehended,  could  restrain 
The  stiff-borne  action.     What  hath  then  befallen, 
Or  what  hath  this  bold  enterprise  brought  forth, 
More  than  that  being  which  was  like  to  be  ?] 

Z».  Bard.  We  all  that  are  engaged  to  this  loss  180 


sc.  i      ^enn?  t\)t  jfourtl),  part  3131         13 

Knew  that  we  ventur'd  on  such  dangerous  seas 
That  if  we  wrought  out  life  'twas  ten  to  one ; 
And  yet  we  ventur'd,  for  the  gain  proposed 
Chok'd  the  respect  of  likely  peril  fear'd  ; 
And  since  we  are  o'erset,  venture  again.  185 

Come,  we  will  all  put  forth,  body  and  goods. 

Mor.    Tis  more  than  time ;  and,  my  most  noble  lord, 
I  hear  for  certain,  and  do  speak  the  truth, 
[The  gentle  Archbishop  of  York  is  up 
With  well-appointed  powers.     He  is  a  man        190 
Who  with  a  double  surety  binds  his  followers. 
My  lord  your  son  had  only  but  the  corpse, 
But  shadows  and  the  shows  of  men,  to  fight ; 
For  that  same  word,  rebellion,  did  divide 
The  action  of  their  bodies  from  their  souls ;       195 

/       And  they  did  fight  with  queasiness,  constrained, 
As  men  drink  potions,  that  their  weapons  only 
Seem'd  on  our  side ;    but,  for  their  spirits  and 

souls, 

This  word,  rebellion,  it  had  froze  them  up, 
As  fish  are  in  a  pond.     But  now  the  Bishop       200 
Turns  insurrection  to  religion. 
Suppos'd  sincere  and  holy  in  his  thoughts, 
He's  follow'd  both  with  body  and  with  mind ; 
And  doth  enlarge  his  rising  with  the  blood 
Of    fair    King    Richard,    scrap'd    from    Pomfret 
stones ;  205 

Derives  from  heaven  his  quarrel  and  his  cause ; 


14         tytnty  tty  jFourtlj,  part  3(31     Act  i 

Tells  them  he  doth  bestride  a  bleeding  land, 
Gasping  for  life  under  great  Bolingbroke  ; 
And  more  and  less  do  flock  to  follow  him.] 
North.    I  knew  of  this  before  ;  but,  to  speak  truth,  210 
This  present  grief  had  wip'd  it  from  my  mind. 
Go  in  with  me ;  and  counsel  every  man 
The  aptest  way  for  safety  and  revenge. 
Get   posts   and     letters,  and   make   friends    with 

speed,  — 

Never  so  few,  and  never  yet  more  need.  215 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  II 

[London.    A  street.] 

Enter  Falstaff,  with  his  Page   bearing    his  sword    and 
buckler. 

Fal.  Sirrah,  you  giant,  what  says  the  doctor  to  my 
water  ? 

Page.  He  said,  sir,  the  water  itself  was  a  good 
healthy  water  ;  but,  for  the  party  that  ow'd  it, 
he  might  have  moe  diseases  than  he  knew  for.  5 

Fal.  Men  of  all  sorts  take  a  pride  to  gird  at  me. 
4  The  brain  of  this  foolish-compounded  clay, 
man,  is  not  able  to  invent  anything  that  in- 
tends to  laughter,  more  than  I  invent  or  is  in- 
vented on  me.  I  am  not  only  witty  in  myself,  10 
but  the  cause  that  wit  is  in  other  men.  I  do  here 


sc.  ii     tyenrs  t\)t  JFourtlj,  part  3131          15 


walk  before  thee  like  a  sow  that  hath  over- 
whelm'd  all  her  litter  but  one.  If  the  Prince 
put  thee  into  my  service  for  any  other  reason 
than  to  set  me  off,  why  then  I  have  no  judge-  15 
ment.  Thou  whoreson  mandrake,  thou  art 
fitter  to  be  worn  in  my  cap  than  to  wait  at  my 
heels.  I  was  never  rnann'd  with  an  agate  till 
now  ;  but  I  will  inset  you  neither  in  gold  nor 
silver,  but  in  vile  apparel,  and  send  you  back  20 
again  to  your  master,  for  a  jewel,  —  the  Juve- 
nal, the  ^Prince  your  master,  whose  chin  is  not 
yet  fledg'd.  I  will  sooner  have  a  beard  grow 
in  the  palm  of  my  hand  than  he  shall  get  one 
off  his  cheek  ;  and  yet  he  will  not  stick  to  say  25 
his  face  is  a  face  royal.  God  may  finish  it 
when  he  will,  'tis  not  a  hair  amiss  yet.  He 
may  keep  it  still  at  a  face  royal,  for  a  barber 
shall  never  earn  sixpence  out  of  it  ;  and  yet 
he'll  be  crowing  as  if  he  had  writ  man  ever  since  30 
his  father  was  a  bachelor.  He  may  keep  his 
own  grace,  but  he's  almost  out  of  mine,  I  can 
assure  him.  What  said  Master  Dommelton 
about  the  satin  for  my  short  cloak  and  my  slops  ? 

Page.   He    said,    sir,     you    should    procure    him     35 
better  assurance   than   Bardolph.     He  would 
not  take  his  band  and  yours.     He  lik'd  not 
the  security. 

Fed.   Let  him  be  damn'd  like  the  glutton  !    Pray 


16         tyniiT  ti)t  jFourtl),  part  3131     Act  I 


God  his  tongue  be  hotter  !  A  whoreson  40 
Achitophel  !  a  rascally  yea-for-sooth  knave  ! 
to  bear  a  gentleman  in  hand,  and  then  stand 
upon  security  !  The  whoreson  smooth-pates 
do  now  wear  nothing  but  high  shoes,  and 
bunches  of  keys  at  their  girdles  ;  and  if  a  man  45 
is  through  with  them  in  honest  taking  up, 
then  they  must  stand  upon  security.  I  had  as 
lief  they  would  put  ratsbane  in  my  mouth  as 
offer  to  stop  it  with  security.  I  look'd  'a 
should  have  sent  me  two  and  twenty  yards  of 
satin,  as  I  am  a  true  knight,  and  he  sends  me  50 
security.  Well,  he  may  sleep  in  security  ;  for 
he  hath  the  horn  of  abundance,  and  yet  the 
lightness  of  his  wife  shines  through  it  ;  and  yet 
cannot  he  see,  though  he  have  his  own  Ian- 
thorn  to  light  him.  Where's  Bardolph  ?  55 

Page.  He's  gone  into  Smithfield  to  buy  your 
worship  a  horse. 

Fal.   I  bought  him  in  Paul's,  and  he'll  buy  me  a 
horse  in  Smithfield.     An  I  could  get  me  but 
a  wife  in  the  stews,  I  were  mann'd,  hors'd,     60 
and  wiv'd. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  and  Servant. 

Page.  Sir,  here  comes  the  nobleman  that  com- 
mitted the  Prince  for  striking  him  about 
Bardolph. 


Sc.  ii     J^enrp  tije  jfourttj,  part  331         17 

FaZ.   Wait  close  ;   I  will  not  see  him.  65 

Ch.  Just.    What's  he  that  goes  there  ? 

Serv.    Falstaff,  an't  please  your  lordship. 

Ch.  Just.   He  that  was  in  question  for  the  rob- 
bery ? 

Serv.   He,  my  lord ;   but  he  hath  since  done  good     70 
service  at  Shrewsbury,  and,  as  I  hear,  is  now 
going  with  some  charge  to  the  Lord  John  of 
Lancaster. 

Ch.Just.   What,    to     York?      Call     him    back 

again.  75 

Serv.    Sir  John  Falsrtaff  ! 

Fal.   Boy,  tell  him  I  am  deaf. 

Page.   You   must    speak    louder ;   my  master    is 
deaf. 

Ch.  Just.    I  am  sure  he  is,  to  the  hearing  of  any-     80 
thing  good.     Go,  pluck  him  by  the  elbow  ;   I 
must  speak  with  him. 

Serv.    Sir  John  ! 

Fal.   What !    a  young  knave,   and  begging !     Is 

there  not  wars  ?  Is  there  not  employment  ?  85 
Doth  not  the  King  lack  subjects  ?  Do  not  the 
rebels  need  soldiers  ?  Though  it  be  a  shame  to 
be  on  any  side  but  one,  it  is  worse  shame  to  beg 
than  to  be  on  the  worst  side,  were  it  worse  than 
the  name  of  rebellion  can  tell  how  to  make  it.  90 

Serv.   You  mistake  me,  sir. 

Fal.   Why,  sir,  did  I  say  you  were  an  honest  man  ? 
c 


is         J?enry  t\)t  jfourt^  part  3131     Act  i 

Setting  my  knighthood   and  my  soldiership 
aside,  I  had  lied  in  my  throat,  if  I  had  said  so. 

Serv.    I  pray  you,  sir,  then  set  your  knighthood     95 
and  your  soldiership  aside  ;  and  give  me  leave 
to  tell  you  you  lie  in  your  throat  if  you  say  I 
am  any  other  than  an  honest  man. 

Fal.    I  give  thee  leave  to  tell  me  so  !     I  lay  aside 

that  which  grows  to  me  !     If  thou  get'st  any    100 
leave  of  me,  hang  me ;    if  thou  tak'st  leave, 
thou    wert    better    be    hang'd.     You    hunt 
counter  ;   hence  !   avaunt ! 

Serv.    Sir,  my  lord  would  speak  with  you. 

Ch.  Just.    Sir  John  Falstaff,  a  word  with  you.  105 

Fal.  My  good  lord  !  God  give  your  lordship  good 
time  of  day.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  lordship 
abroad.  I  heard  say  your  lordship  was  sick ; 
I  hope  your  lordship  goes  abroad  by  advice. 
Your  lordship,  though  not  clean  past  your  110 
youth,  hath  yet  some  smack  of  age  in  you, 
some  relish  of  the  saltness  of  time  in  you  ;  and 
I  most  humbly  beseech  your  lordship  to  have 
a  reverent  care  of  your  health. 

Ch.  Just.   Sir  John,  I  sent  for  you  before  your  expe-    115 
dition  to  Shrewsbury. 

Fal.   An't  please  your  lordship,  I  hear  his  Maj-       • 
esty  is   returned   with   some  discomfort  from 
Wales. 

Ch.  Just.    I  talk  not  of  his  Majesty.     You  would   120 
not  come  when  I  sent  for  you. 


Sc.  ii     ^enrp  t\)t  jfourtl),  part  3|3f|         19 

Fal.  And  I  hear,  moreover,  his  Highness  is  fallen 
into  this  same  whoreson  apoplexy. 

Ch.  Just.    Well,  God  mend  him  !     I  pray  you,  let 

me  speak  with  you.  125 

Fal.  This  apoplexy,  as  I  take  it,  is  a  kind  of 
lethargy,  an't  please  your  lordship,  a  kind  of 
sleeping  in  the  blood,  a  whoreson  tingling. 

Ch.  Just.    What  tell  you  me  of  it  ?     Be  it  as  it 

is.  130 

Fal.  It  hath  it  original  from  much  grief,  from 
study^^tnd^  perturbation  of  the  brain.  I 
have  read  the  cause  of  his  effects  in  Galen.  It 
is  a  kind  of  deafness. 

Ch.  Just.    I  think  you  are  fallen  into  the  disease ;    135 
for  you  hear  not  what  I  say  to  you. 

[FaL]  Very  well,  my  lord,  very  well.  Rather, 
an't  please  you,  it  is  the  disease  of  not  listen- 
ing, the  malady  of  not  marking,  that  I  am 
troubled  withal.  140 

Ch.  Just.  To  punish  you  by  the  heels  would  amend 
the  attention  of  your  ears  ;  and  I  care  not  if  I 
do  become  your  physician. 

Fal.    I  am  as  poor  as  Job,  my  lord,  but  not  so 

patient.     Your    lordship    may    minister    the    145 
potion  of  imprisonment  to  me  in  respect  of  pov- 
erty ;  but  how  I  should  be  your  patient  to  follow 
your  prescriptions,  the  wise  may  make  some 
dram  of  a  scruple,  or  indeed  a  scruple  itself. 


20         ^mr^  tfje  jFourtl),  part  3131     Act  i 


C^.  JwsJ.   I  sent  for  you,  when  there  were  matters   150 

against  you  for  your  life,  to  come  speak  with  me. 
Fal.   As  I  was  then  advis'd  by  my  learned  counsel 

in  the  laws  of  this   land-service,  I  did  not 

come. 
Ch.  Just.   Well,  the  truth  is,  Sir  John,  you  live  in   155 

great  infamy. 
Fal.   He  that  buckles  himself  in  my  belt  cannot 

live  in  less. 
Ch.  Just.   Your  means  is  very  slender,  and  your 

waste  is  great.  160 

Fal.   I  would  it  were  otherwise  ;  I  would  my  means 

were  greater,  and  my  waist  slenderer. 
Ch.  Just.   You  have  misled  the  youthful  prince. 
Fal.   The  young  prince  hath  misled  me.     I    am 

the  fellow  with  the  great  belly,  and  he  my   165 

dog. 
Ch.  Just.  Well,  I  am  loath  to  gall  a  new-heaPd 

wound.     Your  day's   service  at  Shrewsbury 

hath  a  little  gilded  over  your  night's  exploit 

on   Gadshill.     You  may   thank  the  unquiet   170 

time  for  your  quiet  o'er-posting  that  action. 
Fal.   My  lord? 
Ch.  Just.   But  since  all  is  well,  keep  it  so.     Wake 

not  a  sleeping  wolf. 

Fal.   To  wake  a  wolf  is  as  bad  as  smell  a  fox.  175 

Ch.  Just.   What  !   you  are  as  a  candle,  the  better 

part  burnt  out. 


Sc.  ii     j?ntr£  tiie  jFourtij,  put  3131         21 

Fal.  A  wassail  candle,  my  lord,  all  tallow.  If  I 
did  say  of  wax,  my  growth  would  approve  the 
truth.  180 

Ch.  Just.  There  is  not  a  white  hair  in  your  face 
but  should  have  his  effect  of  gravity. 

Fal.   His  effect  of  gravy,  gravy,  gravy. 

Ch.  Just.   You  follow  the  young  prince  up    and 

down,  like  his  ill  angel.  185 

Fal.  Not  so,  my  lordT  Your  ill  angel  is  light ;  but 
I  hope  he  that  looks  upon  me  will  take  me 
without  weighing  ;  and  yet,  in  some  respects, 
I  grant,  I  cannot  go.  I  cannot  tell.  Virtue 
is  of  so  little  regard  in  these  costermongers'  190 
times  that  true  Valour  is  turned  bear-herd ; 
Pregnancy  is  made  a  tapster,  and  his  quick  wit 
wasted  in  giving  reckonings ;  all  the  other 
gifts  appertinent  to  man,  as  the  malice  of  this 
age  shapes  them,  are  not  worth  a  gooseberry.  195 
You  that  are  old  consider  not  the  capacities  of 
us  that  are  young  ;  you  do  measure  the  heat  of 
our  livers  with  the  bitterness  of  your  galls ; 
and  we  that  are  in  the  vaward  of  our  youth,  I 
must  confess,  are  wags  too.  200 

Ch.  Just.  Do  you  set  down  your  name  in  the  scroll 
of  youth,  that  are  written  down  old  with  all  the 
characters  of  age  ?  Have  you  not  a  moist  eye, 
a  dry  hand,  a  yellow  cheek,  a  white  beard,  a 
decreasing  leg,  an  increasing  belly  ?  Is  not  205 


tlje  jfourtlj,  ^art  3131     Act  I 

your  voice  broken,  your  wind  short,  your  chin 
double,  your  wit  single,  and  every  part  about 
you  blasted  with  antiquity  ?  And  will  you  yet 
call  yourself  young  ?  Fie,  fie,  fie,  Sir  John  ! 

Fal.   My  lord,  I  was  born  about  three  of  the  clock  in   210 
the  afternoon,  with  a  white  head  and  something 
a  round  belly.     For  my  voice,  I  have  lost  it 
with  hallooing  and  singing  of  anthems.     To 
approve  my  youth  further,  I  will  not.     The 
truth  is,  I  am  only  old  in  judgement  and  un- 
derstanding ;   and  he  that  will  caper  with  me   215 
for  a  thousand  marks,  let  him  lend  me  the 
money,  and  have  at  him  !     For  the  box  of  the 
ear  that  the  Prince  gave  you,  he  gave  it  like  a 
rude  prince,  and  you  took  it  like  a  sensible 
lord.     I  have   check'd  him  for  it,   and   the    220 
young  lion  repents ;   marry,  not  in  ashes  and 
sackcloth,  but  in  new  silk  and  old  sack. 

Ch.  Just.   Well,    God    send    the   Prince    a   better 


companion 


Fal.   God  send  the  companion  a  better  prince  !     I   225 
cannot  rid  my  hands  of  him. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  the  King  hath  sever'd  you  [and 
Prince  Harry],  I  hear  you  are  going  with 
Lord  John  of  Lancaster  against  the  Archbishop 
and  the  Earl  of  Northumberland.  230 

Fal.  Yea,  I  thank  your  pretty  sweet  wit  for  it, 
But  look  you  pray,  all  you  that  kiss  my  lady 
Peace  at  home,  that  our  armies  join  not  in 


sc.  H     Hjenri?  t\)t  jFourtlj,  part  3131         23 

a  hot  day ;   for,  by  the  Lord,  I  take  but  two 
shirts  out  with  me,  and  I  mean  not  to  sweat   235 
extraordinarily.     If  it  be  a  hot  day,  and  I 
brandish  anything  but  a  bottle,  I  would  I  might 
never  spit  white  again.     There  is  not  a  dan- 
gerous action  can  peep  out  his  head  but  I  am 
thrust  upon  it.     Well,  I  cannot  last  ever  ;  but  it   240 
was  alway  yet  the  trick  of  our  English  nation, 
if  they  have  a  good  thing,  to  make  it  too  com- 
mon.    If  ye  will  needs  say  I  am  an  old  man,  you 
should  |jive  me  rest.     I  would  to  God  my  name 
were  not  so  terrible  to  the  enemy  as  it  is .     I  were   245 
better  to  be  eaten  to  death  with  a  rust  than 
to  be  scoured  to  nothing  with  perpetual  motion. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  be  honest,  be  honest ;  and  God 
bless  your  expedition  ! 

Fal.   Will  your  lordship  lend  me  a  thousand  pound   250 
to  furnish  me  forth  ? 

Ch.  Just.  Not  a  penny,  not  a  penny  ;  you  are  too 
impatient  to  bear  crosses.  Fare  you  well ! 
Commend  me  to  my  cousin  Westmoreland. 

[Exeunt  Chief  Justice  and  Servant.] 

Fal.  If  I  do,  fillip  me  with  a  three-man  beetle.  255 
A  man  can  no  more  separate  age  and  covetous- 
ness  than  'a  can  part  young  limbs  and  lechery  ; 
but  the  gout  galls  the  one,  and  the  pox 
pinches  the  other,  and  so  both  the  degrees 
prevent  my  curses.  Boy  !  260 


24         tyenri?  tfce  jfourt^  part  3131     Act  i 


Page.   Sir? 

Fal.   What  money  is  in  my  purse  ? 

Page.   Seven  groats  and  two  pence. 

Fal.   I  can  get  no  remedy  against  this  consumption 

of   the   purse.     Borrowing   only   lingers   and   265 
lingers  it  out,  but  the  disease  is  incurable. 
Go  bear  this  letter  to  my  Lord  of  Lancaster  ; 
this  to  the  Prince  ;   this  to  the  Earl  of  West- 
moreland ;    and  this  to  old  Mistress  Ursula, 
whom  I  have  weekly  sworn  to  marry  since  I   270 
perceiv'd  the  first   white   hair   of  my   chin. 
About  it.     You  know  where  to  find  me.  [Exit 
Page.]  A  pox  of  this  gout  !  or,  a  gout  of  this 
pox  !  for  the  one  or  the  other  plays  the  rogue 
with  my  great  toe.  'Tis  no  matter  if  I  do  halt  ;   275 
I  have  the*  wars  for  my  colour,  and  my  pension 
shall  seem  the  more  reasonable.     A  good  wit 
will  make  use  of  anything.     I  will  turn  dis- 
eases to  commodity.  Exit. 

SCENE  III 

[York.     The  Archbishop's  palace.] 

Enter  the   Archbishop,  the  Lords  Hastings,  Mowbray, 
and  Bardolph. 

Arch.  Thus  have  you  heard  our  cause  and  known 

our  means  ; 
And,  my  most  noble  friends,  I  pray  you  all, 


sc.  HI    ^enn?  tlje  jfourtl),  ypm  3131         25 


Speak  plainly  your  opinions  of  our  hopes. 
And  first,  Lord  Marshal,  what  say  you  to  it  ? 

Mowb.    I  well  allow  the  occasion  of  our  arms  ;  5 

But  gladly  would  be  better  satisfied 
How  hi  our  means  we  should  advance  ourselves 
To  look  with  forehead  bold  and  big  enough 
Upon  the  power  and  puissance  of  the  King. 

Hast.   Our  present  musters  grow  upon  the  file  10 

To  five  and  twenty  thousand  men  of  choice  ; 
And  our  supplies  live  largely  in  the  hope 
Of  great  Northumberland,  whose  bosom  burns 
With  an  incensed  fire  of  injuries. 

L.  Bard.   The  question  then,  Lord  Hastings,  standeth 
thus  :  15 

Whether  our  present  five  and  twenty  thousand 
May  hold  up  head  without  Northumberland  ? 

Hast.  With  him,  we  may. 

L.  Bard.  Yea,  marry,  there's  the  point  ! 

But  if  without  him  we  be  thought  too  feeble, 
My  judgement  is,  we  should  not  step  too  far  20 
[Till  we  had  his  assistance  by  the  hand  ; 
For,  hi  a  theme  so  bloody-fac'd  as  this, 
Conjecture,  expectation,  and  surmise 
Of  aids  incertain  should  not  be  admitted]. 

Arch.    'Tis  very  true,  Lord  Bardolph  ;  for  indeed       25 
It  was  young  Hotspur's  case  at  Shrewsbury. 

X.  Bard.   It  was,  my  lord  ;    who  lin'd  himself  with 
hope, 


26         8?enr£  t\)t  IFourti),  |part  313     Act  i 


Eating  the  air,  and  promise  of  supply, 
Flatt'ring  himself  in  project  of  a  power 
Much  smaller  than  the  smallest  of  his  thoughts  ; 
And  so,  with  great  imagination  31 

Proper  to  madmen,  led  his  powers  to  death, 
And  winking  leap'd  into  destruction. 

East.   But,  by  your  leave,  it  never  yet  did  hurt 

To  lay  down  likelihoods  and  forms  of  hope.          35 

L.  Bard.    [Yes,  if  this  present  quality  of  war 

Needed  the  instant  action.     A  cause  on  foot 

Lives  so  in  hope  as  in  an  early  spring 

We    see    the    appearing    buds,    which    to    prove 

fruit 

Hope  gives  not  so  much  warrant,  as  despair  40 
That  frosts  will  bite  them.     When  we  mean  to 

build, 

We  first  survey  the  plot,  then  draw  the  model  ; 
And  when  we  see  the  .figure  of  the  house, 
Then  must  we  rate  the  cost  of  the  erection  ; 
Which  if  we  find  outweighs  ability,  45 

What  do  we  then  but  draw  anew  the  model 
In  fewer  offices,  or  at  least  desist 
To  build  at  all  ?    Much  more,  in  this  great  work, 
Which  is  almost  to  pluck  a  kingdom  down 
And  set  another  up,  should  we  survey  50 

The  plot  of  situation  and  the  model, 
Consent  upon  a  sure  foundation, 
Question  surveyors,  know  our  own  estate, 


Sc.  HI    j?enn?  tije  jfourt^  part  3131         27 

How  able  such  a  work  to  undergo, 

To  weigh  against  his  opposite ;    or  else]  55 

We  fortify  in  paper  and  in  figures, 

Using  the  names  of  men  instead  of  men ; 

Like  one  that  draws  the  model  of  a  house 

Beyond    his    power    to    build    it;      who,    half 

through, 

Gives  o'er  and  leaves  his  part-created  cost          60 
A  naked  subject  to  the  weeping  clouds 
And  waste  for  churlish  winter's  tyranny. 

Hast.  Grant  that  our  hopes,  yet  likely  of  fair  birth, 
Should  be  still-born,  and  that  we  now  possess'd 
The  utmost  man  of  expectation,  65 

I  think  we  are  a  body  strong  enough, 
Even  as  we  are,  to  equal  with  the  King. 

L.   Bard.   What,   is   the  King  but  five  and  twenty 
thousand  ? 

Hast.  To  us  no  more;  nay,  not  so  much,  Lord  Bar- 

dolph. 

For  his  divisions,  as  the  times  do  brawl,  70 

Are    in    three  heads :     one    power    against    the 

French, 

And  one  against  Glendower ;    perforce  a  third 
Must  take  up  us.     So  is  the  unfirm  King 
In  three  divided ;  and  his  coffers  sound 
With  hollow  poverty  and  emptiness.  75 

Arch.   That    he    should    draw    his    several    strengths 
together 


28         s?enn?  tf)t  Ifourt^  ^art  313]     Act  i 

And  come  against  us  in  full  puissance, 

Need  not  to  be  dreaded. 
Hast.  If  he  should  do  so, 

To  French  and  Welsh  he  leaves  his  back  un- 
arm'd, 

They  baying  him  at  the  heels.    Never  fear  that. 
L.  Bard.   Who    is    it    like    should    lead    his    forces 
hither  ?  81 

Hast .   The  Duke  of  Lancaster  and  Westmoreland ; 

Against    the    Welsh,    himself    and    Harry    Mon- 
mouth ; 

But  who  is  substituted  'gainst  the  French, 

I  have  no  certain  notice. 
[Arch.  Let  us  on,  85 

And  publish  the  occasion  of  our  arms. 

The  commonwealth  is  sick  of  their  own  choice; 

Their  over-greedy  love  hath  surfeited. 

An  habitation  giddy  and  unsure 

Hath  he  that  buildeth  on  the  vulgar  heart.         90 

O  thou  fond  many,  with  what  loud  applause 

Didst   thou   beat   heaven   with   blessing   Boling- 
broke, 

Before  he  was  what  thou  wouldst  have  him  be  ! 

And  being  now  trimm'd  in  thine  own  desires, 

Thou,  beastly  feeder,  art  so  full  of  him,  95 

That  thou  provok'st  thyself  to  cast  him  up. 

So,  so,  thou  common  dog,  didst  thou  disgorge 

Thy  glutton  bosom  of  the  royal  Richard; 


sc.  in    jjenn?  tlje  jFourtt),  part  3131         29 

And  now  thou  wouldst  eat  thy  dead  vomit  up, 
And  howPst  to  find  it.     What  trust  is  in  these 

times  ?  100 

They  that,  when  Richard  liv'd,  would  have  him 

die, 

Are  now  become  enamour'd  on  his  grave. 
Thou,  that  threw'st  dust  upon  his  goodly  head 
When  through  proud  London  he  came  sighing  on 
After  the  admired  heels  of  Bolingbroke,  105 

Cri'st  now,  "O  earth,  yield  us  that  king  again, 
And  take  thou  this!"    O  thoughts  of  men  ac- 

curs'd  ! 
Past  and  to  come  seems  best;    things  present 

worst.] 
Mowb.   Shall    we    go    draw    our    numbers    and    set 

on  ?  109 

Hast.  We   are   Time's   subjects,   and   Time   bids   be 

gone.  Exeunt. 


ACT  SECOND 

SCENE  I 
[London.    A  street.] 

Enter  Hostess,  Fang  [and  his  Boy  with  her,}  and  Snare 
following. 

Host.   Master    Fang,    have    you    ent'red  the    ac- 
tion ? 

Fang.   It  is  ent'red. 

Host.   Where's  your  yeoman  ?     Is't  a  lusty  yeo- 
man ?     Will  'a  stand  to't  ?  5 

Fang.   Sirrah,  where's  Snare  ? 

Host.   O  Lord,  ay !  good  Master  Snare. 

Snare.   Here,  here. 

Fang.   Snare,  we  must  arrest  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

Host.   Yea,  good  Master  Snare;    I  have  ent'red     10 
him  and  all. 

Snare.    It  may  chance  cost  some  of  us  our  lives, 
for  he  will  stab. 

Host.   Alas    the    day !    take    heed    of    him.     He 

stabb'd  me  in  mine  own  house,  [and  that]  most     15 
beastly.     In  good  faith,  'a  cares  not  what  mis- 
chief he  does,  if  his  weapon  be  out.     He  will 
foin  like  any  devil ;  he  will  spare  neither  man, 
woman,  nor  child. 

30 


sc.  i      j?enn?  tije  jFourtij,  put  331         31 

Fang.    If  I^can^close  with  him,   I  care  not  for    20 
his  thrust. 

Host.   No,  nor  I  neither.     I'll  be  at  your  elbow. 

Fang.   An  I  but  fist  him  once ;    an  'a  come  but 
within  my  vice,  — 

Host.  I  am  undone  by  his  going ;  I  warrant  you,  25 
he's  an  infinitive  thing  upon  my  score.  Good 
Master  Fang,  hold  him  sure.  Good  Master 
Snare,  let  him  not  scape.  'A  comes  continu- 
antly  to  Pie-corner  —  saving  your  manhoods 
—  to  buy  a  saddle  ;  and  he  is  indited  to  dinner  30 
to  the  Lubber's-head  in  Lumbert  street,  to 
Master  Smooth's  the  silk-man.  I  pray  you, 
since  my  exion  is  ent'red  and  my  case  so  openly 
known  to  the  world,  let  him  be  brought  hi  to 
his  answer.  A  hundred  mark  is  a  long  one  for  35 
a  poor  lone  woman  to  bear ;  and  I  have  borne, 
and  borne,  and  borne,  and  have  been  fubb'd 
off,  and  fubb'd  off,  and  fubb'd  off,  from  this 
day  to  that  day,  that  it  is  a  shame  to  be  thought 
on.  There  is  no  honesty  in  such  dealing  ;  un- 
less a  woman  should  be  made  an  ass  and  a  40 
beast,  to  bear  every  knave's  wrong.  Yonder  he 
comes  ;  and  that  arrant  malmsey -nose  knave, 
Bardolph,  with  him.  Do  your  offices,  do  ydur 
offices,  Master  Fang  and  Master  Snare ;  cjo 
me,  do  me,  do  me  your  offices.  45 


32         J^mrp  tty  jfourtijt  ipart  3131    Act  11 


Enter  Falstqff,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Fal.   How  now  !  whose  mare's  dead  ?    What's  the 

matter  ? 
Fang.  [Sir  John,]  I  arrest  you  at  the  suit  of  Mistress 

Quickly. 
Fal.   Away,  varlets  !    Draw,  Bardolph  ;    cut  me     50 

off  the  villain's  head.     Throw  the  quean  in 

the  channel. 
Host.   Throw    me    in    the    channel  !     I'll    throw 

thee  in  the  channel.     Wilt  thou  ?    wilt  thou  ? 

thou  bastardly  rogue  !  Murder,  murder  !  Ah,      55 

thou  honey-suckle  villain  !  wilt  thou  kill  God's 

officers  and  the  King's  ?  Ah,  thou  honey-seed 

rogue  !  thou  art  a  honey-seed,  a  man-queller, 

and  a  woman-queller. 

Fal.   Keep  them  off,  Bardolph.  60 

Fang.   A  rescue  !  a  rescue  ! 
Host.   Good  people,  bring  a  rescue  or  two.    Thou 

wo't,  wo't   thou  ?  thou  wo't,   wo't   ta  ?     Do, 

do,  thou  rogue  !  do,  thou  hempseed  ! 
Page.   Away,  you  scullion  !  you  rampallian  !  you     65 

fustilarian  !     I'll  tickle  your  catastrophe. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  and  his  men. 

Ch.  Just.   What  is  the  matter?    Keep  the  peace 
here,  ho  ! 


Sc.  i      J?enn?  tbe  jfourtlj,  part  3131         33 

Host.    Good  my  lord,  be  good  to  me.     I  beseech 

you,  stand  to  me.  70 

Ch.  Just.   How  now,  Sir  John  !  what,  are  you  brawling 

here  ? 

Doth  this  become  your  place,  your  time  and  busi- 
ness ? 

You  should  have  been  well  on  your  way  to  York. 
Stand  from  him,  fellow;    wherefore  hang'st  thou 
upon  him? 

Host.   O  my  most  worshipful  lord,  an't  please  your     75 
Grace,  I  an  a  poor  widow  of  Eastcheap,  and 
he  is  arrested  at  my  suit. 

Ch.  Just.   For  what  sum? 

Host.    It  is  more  than  for  some,  my  lord ;   it  is  for 

all  I  have.     He  hath  eaten  me  out  of  house  and    80 
home  ;  he  hath  put  all  my  substance  into  that 
fat  belly  of  his  ;  but  I  will  have  some  of  it  out 
again,  or  I  will  ride  thee  o'  nights  like  the  mare. 

Fal.    I  think  I  am  as  like  to  ride  the  mare,  if  I 

have  any  vantage  of  ground  to  get  up.  85 

Ch.  Just.  How  comes  this,  Sir  John  ?  Fie  !  what 
man  of  good  temper  would  endure  this  tem- 
pest of  exclamation?  Are  you  not  asham'd 
to  enforce  a  poor  widow  to  so  rough  a  course  to 
come  by  her  own  ?  90 

Fal.   What  is  the  gross  sum  that  I  owe  thee? 

Host.   Marry,  if  thou  wert  an  honest  man,  thyself 
and  the  money  too.     Thou  didst  swear  to  me 
D 

\ 


34         tyenrp  tty  jfourtk  JjDart  3131    Act  n 

upon  a  parcel-gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my  Dolphin 
chamber,  at  the  round  table,  by  a  seacoal  fire, 
upon  Wednesday  in  Wheeson  week,  when  the     95 
Prince   broke  thy  head  for   liking  his  father 
to  a  singing-man  of  Windsor,  thou  didst  swear 
to  me  then,  as  I  was  washing  thy  wound,  to 
marry  me  and  make  me  my  lady  thy  wife. 
Canst   thou   deny    it?     Did   not   good    wife   100 
Keech,  the  butcher's  wife,  come  in  then  and 
call  me  gossip  Quickly  ?  coming  in  to  borrow  a 
mess  of  vinegar,  telling  us  she  had  a  good  dish 
of  prawns ;  whereby  thou  didst  desire  to  eat 
some;    whereby  I  told  thee  they  were  ill  for   105 
a  green  wound  ?   And  didst  thou  not,  when  she 
was  gone  downstairs,  desire  me  to  be  no  more  so 
familiarity  with  such  poor  people,  saying  that 
ere  long  they  should  call  me  madam?     And 
didst  thou  not  kiss  me  and  bid  me  fetch  thee   110 
thirty  shillings  ?  I  put  thee  now  to  thy  book- 
oath.     Deny  it,  if  thou  canst. 

Fal.  My  lord,  this  is  a  poor  mad  soul ;  and  she 
says  up  and  down  the  town  that  her  eldest 
son  is  like  you.  She  hath  been  in  good  case,  115 
and  the  truth  is,  poverty  hath  distracted  her. 
But  for  these  foolish  officers,  I  beseech  you  I 
may  have  redress  against  them. 

Ch.  Just.   Sir  John,  Sir  John,  I  am  well  acquainted 

with   your   manner   of   wrenching    the    true   120 


sc.  i      tycnn?  tl>e  jfourti),  ipart  3131         35 


cause  the  false  way.  It  is  not  a  confident 
brow,  nor  the  throng  of  words  that  come  with 
such  more  than  impudent  sauciness  from  you, 
can  thrust  me  from  a  level  consideration.  You 
have,  as  it  appears  to  me,  practis'd  upon  the  125 
easy-yielding  spirit  of  this  woman,  and  made 
her  serve  your  uses  both  in  purse  and  in  person. 

Host.   Yea,  in  truth,  my  lord. 

Ch.  Just.   Pray  thee,  peace.     Pay  her  the  debt  you 

owe  her,  and  unpay  the  villainy  you  have  done    130 
with  her.     The  one  you  may  do  with  sterling 
money,  and  the  other  with  current  repentance. 

Fal.  My  lord,  I  will  not  undergo  this  sneap 
without  reply.  You  call  honourable  boldness 
impudent  sauciness  ;  if  a  man  will  make  curtsy  135 
and  say  nothing,  he  is  virtuous.  No,  my  lord, 
my  humble  duty  remembered,  I  will  not  be 
your  suitor.  I  say  to  you,  I  do  desire  deliver- 
ance from  these  officers,  being  upon  hasty 
employment  in  the  King's  affairs.  140 

Ch.  Just.  You  speak  as  having  power  to  do  wrong  ; 
but  answer  in  the  effect  of  your  reputation, 
and  satisfy  the  poor  woman. 

Fal.   Come  hither,  hostess. 

Enter  Gower. 
Ch.  Just.  Now,  Master  Gower,  what  news?  145 


fyt  jfouttt),  UDart  3131    Actn 

The  King,  my  lord,  and  Harry  Prince  of  Wales 
Are  near  at  hand.     The  rest  the  paper  tells. 

Fal.   As  I  am  a  gentleman. 

Host.   Faith,  you  said  so  before. 

Fal.   As    I    am    a    gentleman.     Come,    no   more   150 
words  of  it. 

Host.  By  this  heavenly  ground  I  tread  on,  I 
must  be  fain  to  pawn  both  my  plate  and  the 
tapestry  of  my  dining-chambers. 

Fal.  Glasses,  glasses,  is  the  only  drinking;  and  155 
for  thy  walls,  a  pretty  slight  drollery,  or  the 
story  of  the  Prodigal,  or  the  German  hunting 
in  water- work,  is  worth  a  thousand  of  these 
bed-hangers  and  these  fly-bitten  tapestries. 
Let  it  be  ten  pound,  if  thou  canst.  Come,  an't  160 
were  not  for  thy  humours,  there's  not  a  better 
wench  in  England.  Go,  wash  thy  face,  and  draw 
the  action.  Come,  thou  must  not  be  in  this 
humour  with  me ;  dost  not  know  me  ?  Come, 
come,  I  know  thou  wast  set  on  to  this.  165 

Host.  Pray  thee,  Sir  John,  let  it  be  but  twenty 
nobles.  •  I'  faith,  I  am  loath  to  pawn  my 
plate,  so  God  save  me,  la ! 

Fal.  Let  it  alone ;    I'll  make  other  shift.    You'll 

be  a  fool  still.  170 

Host.  Well,  you  shall  have  it,  though  I  pawn 
my  gown.  I  hope  you'll  come  to  supper. 
You'll  pay  me  altogether  ? 


Sc.  i      j?enri?  tjie  jfourtlj,  ^art  if|3|         37 


Will  I  live  ?    [To  Bardolph.]    Go,  with  her, 

with  her;    hook  on,  hook  on.  175 

Host.   Will  you  have  Doll  Tearsheet  meet  you 

at  supper  ? 
Fal.  No  more  words  ;   let's  have  her. 

[Exeunt  Hostess,  Bardolpk,  Officers,  and  Boy.] 
Ch.  Just.   I  have  heard  better  news. 
Fal.   What's  the  news,  my  lord  ?  180 

Ch.  Just.   Where  lay  the  King  to-night? 
Gow.  At  [Basingstoke],  my  lord. 
Fal.   I  hope,  my  lord,  all's  well.    What  is  the 

news,  my  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  Come  all  his  forces  back?  185 

Gow.  No;  fifteen  hundred  foot,  five   hundred  horse, 

Are  march'd  up  to  my  Lord  of  Lancaster. 

Against  Northumberland  and  the  Archbishop. 
Fal.   Comes  the  King  back  from  Wales,  my  noble  lord  ? 
Ch.  Just.  You  shall  have  letters  of  me  presently.      190 

Come,  go  along  with  me,  good  Master  Gower. 
Fal.   My  lord  ! 

Ch.  Just.   What's  the  matter  ? 
Fal.  Master  Gower,  shall  I  entreat  you  with  me 

to  dinner?  195 

Gow.   I  must  wait  upon  my  good  lord  here;    I 

thank  you,  good  Sir  John. 
Ch.  Just.   Sir  John,  you  loiter  here  too  long,  being 

you  are  to  take  soldiers  up  in  counties  as 

you  go.  200 


38         tytntv  fyt  jFouttl),  part  3131    Actn 

FaL   Will  you  sup  with  me,  Master  Gower  ? 
Ch.  Just.   What  foolish  master  taught  you  these 

manners,  Sir  John  ? 
Fa/.   Master  Gower,  if  they  become  me  not,  he 

was  a  fool  that  taught  them  me.     This  is  the   205 

right  fencing  grace,  my  lord ;   tap  for  tap,  and 

so  part  fair. 
Ch.  Just.  Now  the  Lord  lighten  thee !  thou   art 

a  great  fool.  Exeunt. 

SCENE  II 

[London.    Another  street.] 
Enter  Prince  Henry  and  Poins. 

Prince.  Before  God,  I  am  exceeding  weary. 

Poins.  Is't  come  to  that  ?  I  had  thought  weari- 
ness durst  not  have  attach'd  one  of  so  high 
blood. 

Prince.   Faith,  it  does  me,  though  it    discolours       5 
the  complexion  of  my  greatness  to  acknowl- 
edge it.     Doth  it  not   show  vilely  in  me  to 
desire  small  beer  ? 

Poins.  Why,  a  prince  should  not  be  so  loosely  stud- 
ied as  to  remember  so  weak  a  composition.  10 

Prince.  Belike  then  my  appetite  was  not  princely 
got,  for,  by  my  troth,  I  do  now  remember 
the  poor  creature,  small  beer.  But,  indeed, 
these  humble  considerations  make  me  out 


sc.  H     s?enn?  tlje  jFourtlj,  ^Dart  3131         39 


of  love  with  my  greatness.  What  a  disgrace  15 
is  it  to  me  to  remember  thy  name  !  or  to 
know  thyiace  to-morrow  !  or  to  take  note  how 
many  pair  of  silk  stockings  thou  hast,  viz., 
these,  and  those  that  were  thy  peach-colour'd 
ones  !  or  to  bear  the  inventory  of  thy  shirts,  20 
as,  one  for  superfluity,  and  another  for  use  ! 
But  that  the  tennis-court-keeper  knows  better 
than  I  ;  for  it  is  a  low  ebb  of  linen  with  thee 
when  thou  keepest  not  racket  there  ;  as  thou 
hast  not  done  a  great  while,  because  the  rest  of 
the  low  countries  have  [made  a  shift  to]  eat  up  25 
thy  holland.  And  God  knows,  whether  those 
that  bawl  out  the  ruins  of  thy  linen  shall  inherit 
his  kingdom  :  but  the  midwives  say  the  children 
are  not  in  the  fault  ;  whereupon  the  world  in- 
creases, and  kindreds  are  mightily  strengthened.  30 

Pains.  How  ill  it  follows,  after  you  have  labour'd 
so  hard,  you  should  talk  so  idlely  !  Tell  me, 
how  many  good  young  princes  would  do  so,  their 
fathers  being  so  sick  as  yours  at  this  time  is  ? 

Prince.   Shall  I  tell  thee  one  thing,  Poins  ?  35 

Pains.  Yes,  faith  ;  and  let  it  be  an  excellent 
good  thing. 

Prince.  It  shall  serve  among  wits  of  no  higher 
breeding  than  thine. 

Pains.   Go  to  ;    I  stand   the  push  of  your  one     40 
thing  that  you  will  tell. 


40         S?enr2  tlje  jFourtij,  part  3l3f|    Act  n 

Prince.   Marry,  I  tell  thee,  it  is  not   meet   that 
I  should  be  sad,  now  my  father  is  sick  ;  albeit 
I  could  tell  to  thee,  as  to  one  it  pleases  me,  for 
fault  of  a  better,  to  call  my  friend,  I  could  be     45 
sad,  and  sad  indeed  too. 

Poins.   Very  hardly  upon  such  a  subject. 

Prince.  By  this  hand,  thou  think'st  me  as  far  in 
the  devil's  book  as  thou  and  Falstaff  for  ob- 
duracy and  persistency.  Let  the  end  try  the  50 
man.  But  I  tell  thee,  my  heart  bleeds  inwardly 
that  my  father  is  so  sick ;  and  keeping  such 
vile  company  as  thou  art  hath  in  reason  taken 
"  from  me  all  ostentation  of  sorrow. 

Poins.   The  reason  ?  55 

Prince.   What   wouldst   thou   think  of   me,   if   I 
should  weep  ? 

Poins.   I    would    think    thee    a    most    princely 
hypocrite. 

Prince.   It  would  be  every  man's  thought ;  and    60 
thou  art  a  blessed  fellow  to  think  as  every 
man  thinks.     Never  a  man's  thought  in   the 
world  keeps  the  road-way  better  than  thine. 
Every  man  would  think  me  an  hypocrite  in- 
deed.    And  what  accites  your  most  worshipful      65 
thought  to  think  so  ? 

Poins.  Why,  because  you  have  been  so  lewd  and 
so  much  engraffed  to  Falstaff. 

Prince.  And  to  thee. 


sc.  ii     tymw  tty  ^Fourtlj,  part  3131         41 

Poins.   By  this  light,  I  am  well  spoke  on ;    I  can 

hear    it    with    mine    own    ears.     The    worst     70 
that  they  can  say  of  me  is  that  I  am  a  second 
brother  and  that  I  am  a  proper  fellow  of  my 
hands  ;  and  those  two  things,  I  confess,  I  can- 
not help.  By  the  mass,  here  comes  Bardolph. 

Enter  Bardolph  and  Page. 

Prince.     And  the  boy  that  I  gave  Falstaff.     'A     75 
had  him  from  me  Christian;    and    look,   if 
the  fat  villain  have  not  transform'd  him  ape. 

Bard.   God  save  your  Grace ! 

Prince.   And  yours,  most  noble  Bardolph  ! 

Poins.   Come,  you  virtuous  ass,  you  bashful  fool,     80 
must    you    be    blusning  ?    Wherefore    blush 
you  now  ?     What  a  maidenly  man-at-arms  are 
you  become !     Is't   such  a   matter  to  get  a 
pot'tle-pot's  maidenhead  ? 

Page.   'A  calls  me  e'en  now,  my  lord,  through  a    85 
red  lattice,  and  I  could  discern  no  part  of  his 
face  fromAhe  window.  At  last  I  spied  his  eyes, 
and  methought  he  had  made  two  holes  in  the 
ale-wife's  [new]  petticoat  and  so  peep'd  through. 

Prince..  Has  not  the  boy  profited  ?  90 

Bard.   Away,     you     whoreson     upright     rabbit, 
away  ! 

Page.   Away,     you     rascally     Althaea's     dream, 
away ! 


42         J£ntn?  tty  jFourtlj,  ^art  3131    Act  n 

Prince.   Instruct  us,  boy  ;  what  dream,  boy  ?  95 

Page.  Marry,  my  lord,  Althaea  dream'd  she  was 
delivered  of  a  fire-brand ;  and  therefore  I  call 
him  her  dream. 

Prince.   A  crown's  worth  of  good  interpretation. 

There  'tis,  boy.  100 

Pains.  O,  that  this  [good]  blossom  could  be  kept 
from  cankers !  Well,  there  is  sixpence  to 
preserve  thee. 

Bard.   An  you  do  not  make  him   hang'd  among 

you,  the  gallows  shall  have  wrong.  105 

Prince.   And  how  doth  thy  master,  Bardolph  ? 

Bard.  Well,  my  lord.  He  heard  of  your  Grace's 
coming  to  town.  There's  a  letter  for  you. 

Pains.   Deliver'd   with   good   respect.     And   how 

doth  the  martlemas,  your  master  ?  110 

Bard.   In  bodily  health,  sir. 

Pains.  Marry,  the  immortal  part  needs  a  physi- 
cian ;  but  that  moves  not  him.  Though  that 
be  sick,  it  dies  not. 

Prince.   I  do  allow  this  wen  to  be  as  familiar   115 
with  me  as  my  dog,  and  he  holds  his  place, 
for  look  you  how  he  writes. 

Pains.    [Reads.]     "John  Falstaff, knight,"  —  every 
man  must  know  that,  as  oft  as  he  has  oc- 
casion to  name  himself ;  even  like  those  that   120 
are  kin  to  the  King,  for  they  never  prick  their 
finger  but  they  say,  "There's  some  of    th« 


sc.  ii     tytmy  fye  5Fourt&,  part  3131         43 

King's  blood    spilt."      "How  comes  that?" 
says  he,  that  takes  upon  him  not  to  conceive. 
The  answer  is  as  ready  as  a  borrower's  cap,    125 
"  I  am  the  King's  poor  cousin,  sir."  , 

Prince.   Nay,  they  will  be  kin  to  us,  or  they  will 
fetch  it  from  Japhet.     But  the  letter  : 

"Sir  John  Falstaff,  knight,  to  the  son   of 
the  King  nearest  his  father,  Harry  Prince  of   130 
Wales,  greeting." 
Pains.   Why,  this  is  a  certificate. 
Prince.   Peace ! 

"I  will  imitate  the  honourable  Romans    in 
brevity."  135 

Poins.   He  sure   means  brevity  in   breath,  short- 
winded. 

[Prince.]  "I  commend  me  to  thee,  I  commend 
thee,  and  I  leave  thee.  Be  not  too  familiar 
with  Poins;  for  he  misuses  thy  favours  so 
much,  that  he  swears  thou  art  to  marry  his 
sister  Nell.  Repent  at  idle  times  as  thou  may-  140 
est;  and  so,  farewell. 

"Thine,  by  yea  and  no,  which  is  as  much 
as  to  say,  as  thou  usest   him,  JACK 
FALSTAFF  with    my  familiars,   JOHN 
with   my   brothers   and    sisters,   and   145 
SIR  JOHN  with  all  Europe." 

Poins.   My  lord,  I'll  steep  this  letter  in  sack  and 
make  him  eat  it. 


44         tytnvg  tip  JFotmt),  ;prt  3131    Act  11 

Prince.   That's  to  make  him  eat  twenty  of   his 

words.    But    do    you    use    me    thus,    Ned?   150 
Must  I  marry  your  sister  ? 

Pains.  God  send  the  wench  no  worse  fortune ! 
But  I  never  said  so. 

Prince.   Well,   thus  we  play  the  fools  with  the 

time,  and  the  spirits  of  the  wise  sit  in  the   155 
clouds  and  mock  us.     Is  your  master  here  in 
London  ? 

Bard.   Yea,  my  lord. 

Prince.   Where    sups    he?    Doth    the    old    boar 

feed  in  the  old  frank  ?  160 

Bard.  At  the  old  place,  my  lord,  in  East- 
cheap. 

Prince.   What  company  ? 

Page.   Ephesians,  my  lord,  of  the  old  church. 

Prince.   Sup  any  women  with  him  ?  165 

Page.  None,  my  lord,  but  old  Mistress  Quickly 
and  Mistress  Doll  Tearsheet. 

Prince.   What  pagan  may  that  be  ? 

Page.  A  proper  gentlewoman,  sir,  and  a  kins- 
woman of  my  master's.  170 

Prince.  Even  such  kin  as  the  parish  heifers  are 
to  the  town  bull.  Shall  we  steal  upon  them, 
Ned,  at  supper? 

Poins.   I  am  your  shadow,  my  lord ;    I'll  follow 

you.  175 

Prince.  Sirrah,  you  boy,  and  Bardolph,  no  word 


sc.  ii     s?mn?  tlje  jfourti),  part  3131         45 


to  your  master  that  I  am  yet  come  to  town. 

There's  for  your  silence. 
Bard.    I  haye^ie  tongue,  sir. 

Page.   And  for  mine,  sir,  I  will  govern  it.  180 

Prince.   Fare   you   well;     go.     [Exeunt   Bardolph 

and  Page.]     This  Doll  Tearsheet  should  be 

some  road. 
Poins.    I  warrant  you,  as  common  as  the  way 

between  Saint  Alban's  and  London.  185 

Prince.   How  might  we  see  Falstaff  bestow  him- 

self to-night  in  his  true  colours,  and  not  our- 

selves be  seen  ? 
Poins.   Put      on      two      leathern      jerkins      and 

aprons,  and  wait  upon  him  at  his  table  as   190 

drawers. 
Prince.    From  a  God  to  a  bull  ?  a  heavy  descen- 

sion  !    It   was  Jove's  case.     From  a  prince  to 

a  prentice  ?  a  low  transformation  !     That  shall 

be  mine;  for  in  everything  the  purpose  must   195 

weigh  with  the  folly.     Follow  me,  Ned. 

Exeunt. 
SCENE  III 

[Warkworth.     Before  the  castle.] 

Enter  Northumberland,  Lady  Northumberland,  and 
Lady  Percy. 

North.   I  pray  thee,  loving  wife,  and  gentle  daughter, 
Give  even  way  unto  my  rough  affairs; 


46         tyntn?  fyt  jfourt^  part  331    Act  n 

Put  not  you  on  the  visage  of  the  times 
And  be  like  them  to  Percy  troublesome. 
Lady  N.   I    have    given    over,     I    will     speak    no 

more.  5 

Do  what  you  will ;   your  wisdom  be  your  guide. 
/    North.   Alas,  sweet  wife,  my  honour  is  at  pawn ; 
And,  but  my  going,  nothing  can  redeem  it. 
Eady  P.   O    yet,    for    God's    sake,   go    not    to    these 

wars ! 
The    time    was,    father,    that    you    broke    your 

word,  10 

When  you  were  more  endear'd  to  it  than  now; 
When  your   own    Percy,   when  my  heart's   dear 

Harry, 

Threw  many  a  northward  look  to  see  his  father 
Bring  up  his  powers ;   but  he  did  long  in  vain. 
Who  then  persuaded  you  to  stay  at  home  ?         15 
There    were   two  honours   lost,   yours   and   your 

son's. 

For  yours,  the  God  of  heaven  brighten  it ! 
For  his,  it  stuck  upon  him  as  the  sun 
In  the  grey  vault  of  heaven,  and  by  his  light 
Did  all  the  chivalry  of  England  move  20 

To  do  brave  acts.     He  was  indeed  the  glass 
Wherein  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves. 
[He  had  no  legs,  that  practis'd  not  his  gait ; 
And    speaking    thick,    which    nature    made    his 

blemish, 


sc.  HI    s?enn?  t&e  5Fourtlj,  put  301         47 

Became  the  accents  of  the  valiant ;  25 

For  those  that  could  speak  low  and  tardily 
Woulo^  turnr  their  own  perfection  to  abuse, 
To  seem  like  him;    so  that  in  speech,  in  gait, 
In  diet,  in  affections  of  delight, 
In  military  rules,  humours  of  blood,  30 

He  was  the  mark  and  glass,  copy  and  book, 
That  fashion'd  others.    And  him,  O  wondrous  him  ! 
O  miracle  of  men  !  him  did  you  leave, 
Second  to  none,  unseconded  by  you, 
To  look  upon  the  hideous  god  of  war  35 

In  disadvantage  ;  to  abide  a  field 
Where  nothing  but  the  sound  of  Hotspur's  name 
Did  seem  defensible  :   so  you  left  him. 
Never,  O  never,  do  his  ghost  the  wrong 
To  hold  your  honour  more  precise  and  nice          40 
With  others  than  with  him  !     Let  them  alone. 
The  Marshal  and  the  Archbishop  are  strong. 
Had  my  sweet  Harry  had  but  half  their  num- 
bers, 

To-day  might  I,  hanging  on  Hotspur's  neck, 
Have  talk'd  of  Monmouth's  grave.] 
North.  Beshrew  your  heart, 

Fair  daughter,  you  do  draw  my  spirits  from  me  46 
With  new  lamenting  ancient  oversights. 
But  I  must  go  and  meet  with  danger  there, 
Or  it  will  seek  me  in  another  place 
And  find  me  worse  provided. 


48        tyrnrg  tfce  jfourtlj,  |part  3131    Act  11 

Lady  N.  O,  fly  to  Scotland, 

Till  that  the  nobles  and  the  armed  commons      51 
Have  of  their  puissance  made  a  little  taste. 

Lady  P.   If  they  get  ground  and  vantage  of  the  King, 
Then  join  you  with  them,  like  a  rib  of  steel, 
To  make  strength  stronger ;  but,  for  all  our  loves,  55 
First  let  them  try  themselves.     So  did  your  son ; 
He  was  so  suffered ;    so  came  I  a  widow ; 
And  never  shall  have  length  of  life  enough 
To  rain  upon  remembrance  with  mine  eyes, 
That  it  may  grow  and  sprout  as  high  as  heaven,  60 
For  recordation  to  my  noble  husband. 

North.   Come,  come,  go  in  with  me.     'Tis  with  my  mind 
As  with  the  tide  swelPd  up  unto  his  height, 
That  makes  a  still  stand,  running  neither  way. 
Fain  would  I  go  to  meet  the  Archbishop,  65 

But  many  thousand  reasons  hold  me  back. 
I  will  resolve  for  Scotland.     There  am  I, 
Till  time  and  vantage  crave  my  company. 

Exeunt, 

SCENE  IV 

[London.     The  Boards-Head  Tavern  in  Eastcheap.] 
Enter  two  Drawers. 

1.  Draw.  What  the  devil  hast  thou  brought  there  ? 
Apple- Johns  ?  Thou  know'st  Sir  John  can- 
not endure  an  apple-John. 


sc.  iv    jjenrE  rtje  jfourtl),  JjDart  3131         49 


#.  Z)raw.   Mass,    thou    say'st    true.    The    Prince 

once  set  a  dish  of  apple-  Johns  before-  him,  and  5 
told  him  there  were  five  more  Sir  Johns,  and, 
putting  off  his  hat,  said,  "  I  will  now  take  my 
leave  of  these  six  dry,  round,  old,  wither'd 
knights."  It  ang'red  him  to  the  heart  ;  but 
he  hath  forgot  that.  10 

1.  Draw.   Why,  then,  cover,  and  set  them  down; 

and  see  if  thou  canst  find  out  Sneak's  noise. 
Mistress  Tearsheet  would  fain  hear  some 
music.  Dispatch  !  The  room  where  they 
supped  is  too  hot  ;  they'll  come  in  straight.  15 

2.  Draw.   Sirrah,  here  will  be  the  Prince  and  Mas- 

ter Poins  anon,  and  they  will  put  on  two  of 
our  jerkins  and  aprons;  and  Sir  John  must 
not  know  of  it.  Bardolph  hath  brought 
word.  20 

1.  Draw.   By  the  mass,  here  will  be  old  utis  ;  it  will 

be  an  excellent  stratagem. 

2.  Draw.   I'll  see  if  I  can  find  out  Sneak.  Exit. 

Enter  Hostess  and  Doll  Tearsheet. 

Host.   F    faith,    sweetheart,    methinks    now    you 

are  in  an  excellent  good  temperality.     Your     25 
pulsidge    beats    as    extraordiaarily    as    heart 
would  desire  ;  and  your  colour,  I  warrant  you, 
is  as  red  as  any  rose,  in  good  truth,  la  !  But,  i' 
faith,  you  have  drunk  too  much  canaries  ;  and 

E  , 


50         tymw  t\)t  jFourtl),  part  3131    Act  n 

that's  a  marvellous  searching  wine,  and  it  per-     30 

fumes  the  blood  ere  one  can  say,  "What's 

this  ?  "    How  do  you  now  ? 
Dol.  Better  than  I  was.     Hem  ! 
Host.  Why,  that's  well  said ;  a  good  heart's  worth 

gold.     Lo,  here  comes  Sir  John.  35 

Enter  Falstqff. 

Fal   [Singing.]   "When    Arthur    first    in    court" 

—  Empty     the     Jordan.     [Exit     1.  Drawer.] 

—  [Singing.]   "And    was    a    worthy    king." 
How  now,  Mistress  Doll ! 

Host.   Sick  of  a  calm ;  yea,  good  faith.  40 

Fal.   So  is  all  her  sect ;  an  they  be  once  in  a  calm, 

they  are  sick.  , 

Dol.   A  pox  damn  you,  you  muddy  rascal,  is  that 

all  the  comfort  you  give  me  ? 

Fal.  You  make  fat  rascals,  Mistress  Doll.  45 

Dol.   I  make  them  ?     Gluttony  and  diseases  make 

them ;    I  make  them  not. 
Fal.   If  the  cook  help  to  make  the  gluttony,  you 

help  to  make  the  diseases,  Doll.     We  catch  of 

you,  Doll,  we  catch  of  you.     Grant  that,  my     50 

poor  virtue,  grant  that. 
Dol.  Yea,  joy,  our  chains  and  our  jewels. 
Fal.   Your    brooches,    pearls,     and    ouches.     For 

to  serve  bravely  is  to  come  halting  off,  you 


sc.  iv    j?enn?  tlje  jFourt^  JjDart  3131         51 

know ;    to  come  off  the  breach  with  his  pike     55 
bent  bravely,  and  to  surgery  bravely ;  to  ven- 
ture upon  the   charg'd  chambers  bravely,  — 

DoL  Hang  yourself,  you  muddy  conger,  hang 
yourself ! 

Host.   By  my  troth,  this  is  the  old  fashion;    you     60 
two  never  meet  but  you  fall  to  some  discord. 
You  are  both,  i'  good  truth,  as   rheumatic  as 
two  dry  toasts ;   you  cannot  one  bear  with  an- 
other's confirmities.    What  the  good-year  !  one 
must  bear,  and  that  must  be  you ;  you  are  the     65 
weaker  vessel,  as  they  say,  the  emptier  vessel. 

DoL  Can  a  weak  empty  vessel  bear  such  a  huge 
full  hogshead?  There's  a  whole  merchant's 
venture  of  Bourdeaux  stuff  in  him ;  you  have 
not  seen  a  hulk  better  stuff'd  in  the  hold.  70 
Come,  I'll  be  friends  with  thee,  Jack.  Thou 
art  going  to  the  wars ;  and  whether  I  shall 
ever  see  thee  again  or  no,  there  is  nobody  cares. 

Re-enter  [First]  Drawer. 

[1.]  Draw.  Sir,  Ancient  Pistol's  below,  and  would 

speak  with  you.  75 

DoL  Hang  him,  swaggering  rascal !  let  him  not 
come  hither.  It  is  the  foul-mouth'd'st  rogue 
in  England. 

Host .   If  he  swagger,  let  him  not  come  here ;   no, 


53         t^enr^  tty  jfourtlj,  part  3131    Actn 

by  my  faith.  I  must  live  among  my  neigh-  80 
bours ;  I'll  no  swaggerers.  I  am  in  good  name 
and  fame  with  the  very  best.  Shut  the  door ; 
there  comes  no  swaggerers  here.  I  have  not 
liv'd  all  this  while,  to  have  swaggering  now. 
Shut  the  door,  I  pray  you.  85 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear,  hostess  ? 

Host.   Pray  ye,  pacify  yourself,  Sir  John.     There 
comes  no  swaggerers  here. 

Fal.   Dost  thou  hear  ?     It  is  mine  ancient. 

Host.  Tilly-fally,   Sir  John,   ne'er  tell  me ;    and     90 
your  ancient  swaggerer  comes  not  in  my  doors. 
I  was  before  Master  Tisick,  the  debuty,  t' 
other  day ;    and,  as  he  said  to  me,  'twas  no 
longer  ago  than  Wednesday  last,  "  I'  good  faith, 
neighbour  Quickly,"  says  he  ;  Master  Dumbe,     95 
our    minister,    was    by     then;     "neighbour 
Quickly,"  says  he,  "receive  those  that  are  civil ; 
for,"  said  he,  "you  are  man  ill  name."    Now 
'a  said  so,  I  can  tell  whereupon  ;  "for,"  says  he, 
"you  are  an  honest  woman,  and  well  thought  on ;  100 
therefore  take   heed  what  guests  you  receive. 
Receive,"  says  he,  "no  swaggering   compan- 
ions." There  comes  none  here.  You  would  bless 
you  to  hear  what  he  said.  No,  I'll  no  swaggerers. 

Fal.   He's  no  swaggerer,  hostess ;  a  tame  cheater,    105 
i'  faith ;  you  may  stroke  him  as  gently  as  a 
puppy  greyhound.     He'll  not  swagger  with  a 


Sc.  iv    J?mn?  tlje  jfourtl),  pnt  331         53 


Barbary  hen,  if  her  feathers  turn  back  in  any 
show  of  resistance.     Call  him  up,  drawer. 

[Exit  1.  Drawer.] 

Host.   Cheater,  call  you  him  ?     I  will  bar  no  honest   110 
man  my  house,  nor  no  cheater  ;   but  I  do  not 
love   swaggering,   by   my   troth.     I   am   the 
worse,  when  one  says  swagger.     Feel,  masters, 
how  I  shake  ;   look  you,  I  warrant  you. 
Del.   So  you  do,  hostess.  115 

Host.  Do  I?  yea,  in  very  truth,  do  I,  an 
'twere  an  aspen  leaf.  I  cannot  abide  swag- 
gerers. 

Enter  Pistol,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Pist.   God  save  you,  Sir  John  ! 

Fal.   Welcome,   Ancient   Pistol.     Here,   Pistol,    I   120 

charge  you  with  a  cup  of  sack  ;    do  you  dis- 

charge upon  mine  hostess. 
Pist.   I  will  discharge  upon  her,  Sir  John,  with  two 

bullets. 
Fal.   She   is   pistol-proof,   sir  ;    you   shall  hardly   125 

offend  her. 
Host.   Come,  I'll  drink  no  proofs  nor  no  bullets. 

I'll  drink  no  more  than  will  do  me  good,  for 

no  man's  pleasure,  I. 
Pist.  Then  to  you,  Mistress  Dorothy  ;  I  will  charge  130 

you. 
Dol.  Charge  me  !  I  scorn  you,  scurvy  companion. 


54         ^enn?  tije  jfourtlj,  put  33    Act  11 


What!  you  poor,  base,  rascally,  cheating, 
lack-linen  mate  !  Away,  you  mouldy  rogue, 
away  !  I  am  meat  for  your  master.  135 

Pist.    I  know  you,  Mistress  Dorothy. 

Dol.  Away,  you  cut-purse  rascal  !  you  filthy 
bung,  away  !  By  this  wine,  I'll  thrust  my  knife 
in  your  mouldy  chaps,  an  you  play  the  saucy 
cuttle  with  me.  Away,  you  bottle-ale  rascal  !  140 
you  basket-hilt  stale  juggler,  you  !  Since 
when,  I  pray  you,  sir?  God's  light,  with 
two  points  on  your  shoulder  ?  Much  ! 

Pist.   God  let  me  not  live,  but  I  will  murder  your 

ruff  for  this.  145 

Fal.  No  more,  Pistol  ;  I  would  not  have  you  go 
off  here.  Discharge  yourself  of  our  company, 
Pistol. 

Host.  No,  good  Captain  Pistol  ;    not  here,  sweet 

captain.  150 

Dol.  Captain  !  thou  abominable  damn'd  cheater, 
art  thou  not  asham'd  to  be  call'd  captain  ? 
An  captains  were  of  my  mind,  they  would 
truncheon  you  out,  for  taking  their  names  upon 
you  before  you  have  earn'd  them.  You  a  155 
captain  !  you  slave,  for  what  ?  For  tearing 
a  poor  whore's  ruff  in  a  bawdy-house  ?  He  a 
captain  !  Hang  him,  rogue  !  he  lives  upon 
mouldy  stew'd  prunes  and  dried  cakes.  A  cap- 
tain !  God's  light,  these  villains  will  make  160 


sc.  iv    tytnty  tlje  JFourtlj,  JDart  3131         55 

the  word  as  odious  as  the  word  "occupy"  ; 
which  was  an  excellent  good  word  before  it  was 
ill  sorted  ;  therefore  captains  had  need  look  to't. 

Bard.   Pray  thee,  go  down,  good  ancient. 

Fal.   Hark  thee  hither,  Mistress  Doll.  165 

Pist.   Not  I.     I  tell  thee  what,  Corporal  Bardolph, 
I  could  tear  her.     I'll  be  reveng'd  of  her. 

Page.   Pray  thee,  go  down. 

Pist.    I'll  see  her  damn'd  first ;  to  Pluto's  damn'd 

lake,    by   this   hand,    to   the   infernal   deep,   170 
with  Erebus  and  tortures  vile  also.     Hold  hook 
and  line,  say  I.     Down,  down,  dogs !  down, 
faitors  !    Have  we  not  Hiren  here  ? 

Host.   Good  Captain   Peesel,  be   quiet ;    'tis  very 

late,  i'  faith.     I  beseek  you  now,  aggravate   175 
your  choler. 

Pist.   These  be  good    humours,  indeed !     Shall  pack- 
horses 

And  hollow  pamper'd  jades  of  Asia, 
Which  cannot  go  but  thirty  mile  a-day, 
Compare  with  Caesars  and  with  Cannibals          180 
And  Troian  Greeks  ?    Nay,  rather  damn  them  with 
King  Cerberus,  and  let  the  welkin  roar. 
Shall  we  fall  foul  for  toys  ? 

Host.   By  my  troth,  captain,  these  are  very  bitter 

words.  185 

Bard.   Be  gone,  good  ancient.    This  will  grow  to 
a  brawl  anon. 


s<>         tyenrs  tlje  jFourrt),  ^art  3131    Act  11 

Pist.   [Die]  men  like  dogs  !    Give  crowns  like  pins  ! 

Have  we  not  Hiren  here  ? 
Host.  O'  my  word,  captain,  there's  none  such  here.    190 

What  the  good-year !   do  you  think  I  would 

deny  her  ?    For  God's  sake,  be  quiet. 
Pist.   Then  feed,  and  be  fat,  my  fair  Calipolis. 

Come,  give  's  some  sack. 

"Si fortune  me  tormente  sperato  me  contento."      195 

Fear  we  broadsides  ?    No,  let  the  fiend  give  fire. 

Give  me  some  sack ;    and,  sweetheart,  lie  thou 
there.  [Laying  down  his  sword.] 

Come  we  to  full  points  here ;    and  are  etceteras 

nothing  ? 

Fal.   Pistol,  I  would  be  quiet. 
Pist.  Sweet  knight,  I  kiss  thy  neaf.    What !  we  200 

have  seen  the  seven  stars. 
Dol.   For  God's  sake,  thrust  him  downstairs.     I 

cannot  endure  such  a  fustian  rascal. 
Pist.   Thrust  him  downstairs  !     Know  we  not  Gal- 
loway nags  ?  205 
Fal.   Quoit  him  down,  Bardolph,  like  a  shove-groat 

shilling.    Nay,   an  'a  do   nothing  but  speak 

nothing,  'a  shall  be  nothing  here. 
Bard.   Come,  get  you  downstairs. 
Pist.   What !   shall  we  have  incision  ?     Shall  we  im- 
brue ?  [Snatching  up  his  sword.] 

Then  death  rock  me  asleep,  abridge  my  doleful 
days !  211 


Sc.  iv    j?enrE  tty  jFourtij,  part  33         57 

Why,  then,  let  grievous,  ghastly,  gaping  wounds 
Untwine  the  Sisters  Three !    Come,  Atropos,   I 
say  \ 

Host.   Here's  goodly  stuff  toward  ! 

Fal.   Give  me  my  rapier,  boy.  215 

Dol.  I  pray  thee,  Jack,  I  pray  thee,  do  not 
draw. 

Fal.   Get  you  downstairs. 

[Drawing,  and  driving  Pistol  out.] 

Host.  Here's  a  goodly  tumult !     I'll  forswear  keep- 
ing house,  afore  I'll  be  in  these  tirrits  and  220 
frights.     So ;   murder,  I  warrant  now.     Alas, 
alas  !  put  up  your  naked  weapons,  put  up  your 
naked  weapons.  [Exeunt  Pistol  and  Bardolph.] 

Dol.   I  pray  thee,  Jack,  be  quiet ;  the  rascal's  gone. 

Ah,    you    whoreson    little    valiant    villain,    225 
you! 

Host.  Are  you  not  hurt  i'  the  groin  ?  Methought 
'a  made  a  shrewd  thrust  at  your  belly. 

[Re-enter  Bardolph.] 

Fal.   Have  you  turn'd  him  out  o'  doors  ? 

Bard.  Yea,  sir ;    the  rascal's  drunk.    You  have  230 
hurt  him,  sir,  i'  the  shoulder. 

Fal.  A  rascal !  to  brave  me  ! 

Dol.  Ah,  you  sweet  little  rogue,  you  !  Alas,  poor 
ape,  how  thou  sweat'st !  Come,  let  me  wipe 
thy  face.  Come  on,  you  whoreson  chops.  235 


s8         j£ntn?  t\)t  jfourttj,  JDart  3131    Act  n 

Ah,  rogue  !  i'  faith,  I  love  thee.  Thou  art  as 
valorous  as  Hector  of  Troy,  worth  five  of  Aga- 
memnon, and  ten  times  better  than  the  Nine 
Worthies.  Ah,  villain  ! 

Fal.   A  rascally  slave !    I  will  toss  the  rogue  in  a   240 
blanket. 

Dot.  Do,  an  thou  dar'st  for  thy  heart.  An  thou 
dost,  I'll  canvass  thee  between  a  pair  of 
sheets. 

Enter  Music. 

Page.   The  music  is  come,  sir.  245 

Fal.   Let  them  play.     Play,  sirs.     Sit  on  my  knee, 
Doll.     A   rascal   bragging  slave !   The   rogue 
fled  from  me  like  quicksilver. 
Dol.    T  faith,  and  thou  follow'dst  him  like  a  church. 

Thou  whoreson  little  tidy  Bartholomew  boar-   250 
pig,  when  wilt  thou  leave  fighting  o'  days  and 
foining  o'  nights,  and  begin  to  patch  up  thine 
old  body  for  heaven  ? 

Enter  [behind,]  Prince  Henry  and  Poins,  disguised. 

Fal.  Peace,  good  Doll !  do  not  speak  like  a  death's- 
head.  Do  not  bid  me  remember  mine  end.  255 

Dol.   Sirrah,  what  humour's  the  Prince  of  ? 

Fal.  A  good  shallow  young  fellow.  'A  would  have 
made  a  good  pantler ;  'a  would  ha'  chipp'd 
bread  well. 


Sc.  iv    ^enr^  tjie  jFourtl),  JjDart  3)3]         59 

Del.  They  say  Poins  has  a  good  wit.  260 

Fal.  He  a  good  wit  ?  Hang  him,  baboon !  His 
wit's  as  thick  as  Tewksbury  mustard  ;  there's 
no  more  conceit  in  him  than  is  in  a  mallet. 

Dot.   Why  does  the  Prince  love  him  so,  then  ? 

Fal.   Because  their  legs  are  both  of  a  bigness,  and  265 
he  plays  at  quoits  well,  and  eats  conger  and 
fennel,  and  drinks  off  candles'  ends  for  flap- 
dragons,   and   rides  the  wild-mare  with  the 
boys,  and  jumps  upon  join'd  stools,  and  swears 
with  a  good  grace,  and  wears  his  boots  very   270 
smooth,  like  unto  the  sign  of  The  Leg,  and 
breeds  no  bate  with  telling  of  discreet  stories ; 
and  such  other  gambol  faculties  'a  has,  that 
show  a  weak  mind  and  an  able  body,  for  the 
which  the  Prince  admits  him.     For  the  Prince   275 
himself  is  such  another ;   the  weight  of  a  hair 
will  turn  the  scales  between  their  avoirdupois. 

Prince.  Would  not  this  nave  of  a  wheel  have  his 
ears  cut  off  ? 

Poins.   Let's  beat  him  before  his  whore.  280 

Prince.  Look,  whe'er  the  wither'd  elder  hath  not 
his  poll  claw'd  like  a  parrot. 

Poins.  Is  it  not  strange  that  desire  should  so  many 
years  outlive  performance  ? 

Fal.   Kiss  me,  Doll.  285 

Prince.  Saturn  and  Venus  this  year  in  conjunction ! 
What  says  the  almanac  to  that  ? 


60         S?enn?  tlje  jfourtft,  JDart  3131    Act  11 

Pains.  And,  look,  whether  the  fiery  Trigon,  his 
man,  be  not  lisping  to  his  master's  old  tables, 
his  note-book,  his  counsel-keeper.  290 

Fal.  Thou  dost  give  me  flattering  busses. 

Dol.  By  my  troth,  I  kiss  thee  with  a  most  constant 
heart. 

Fal.   I  am  old,  I  am  old. 

Dol.   I  love  thee  better  than  I  love  e'er  a  scurvy  295 
young  boy  of  them  all. 

Fal.  What  stuff  wilt  have  a  kirtle  of  ?  I  shall  re- 
ceive money  o'  Thursday.  Shalt  have  a  cap  to- 
morrow .  A  merry  song,  come  !  It  grows  late ; 
we'll  to  bed.  Thou't  forget  me  when  I  am  gone.  300 

Dol.  By  my  troth,  thou't  set  me  a-weeping,  an  thou 
say'st  so.  Prove  that  ever  I  dress  myself 
handsome  till  thy  return.  Well,  hearken  at 
the  end. 

Fal.   Some  sack,  Francis.  305 

Prince.    }   . 

~  .          \  Anon,  anon,  sir.  r  ~      .      -  , , 

Poins.     }  [Coming  forward.] 

Fal.   Ha  !  a  bastard  son  of  the  King's,?    And  art 

not  thou  Poins  his  brother  ? 
Prince.  Why,  thou  globe  of  sinful  continents,  what 

a  life  dost  thou  lead  !  310 

Fal.   A  better  than  thou.     I  am  a  gentleman  ;  thou 

art  a  drawer. 
Prince.  Very  true,  sir ;  and  I  come  to  draw  you  out 

by  the  ears. 


sc.  iv    j^ntr^  tty  jfourtl),  part  3131         61 

Host.   O,  the  Lord  preserve  thy  Grace !    By  my  315 

troth,  welcome  to  London.     Now,  the   Lord 

bless  that  sweet  face  of  thine !    O  Jesu,  are 

you  come  from  Wales  ? 
FaL   Thou  whoreson  mad  compound  of  majesty,  by 

this  light  flesh  and  corrupt  blood,  thou  art  wel-   320 

come. 

Dol.   How,  you  fat  fool !     I  scorn  you. 
Poins.   My  lord,  he  will  drive  you  out  of    your 

revenge  and  turn  all  to  a  merriment,  if  you 

take  not  the  heat.  325 

Prince.   You    whoreson    candle-mine,    you,    how 

vilely  did  you  speak  of  me  even  now  before  this 

honest,  virtuous,  civil  gentlewoman  ! 
Host.   God's  blessing  of  your  good  heart !  and  so 

she  is,  by  my  troth.  330 

FaL   Didst  thou  hear  me  ? 
Prince.   Yea,  and  you  knew  me,  as  you  did  when 

you  ran  away  by  Gadshill.     You  knew  I  was 

at  your  back,  and  spoke  it  on  purpose  to  try 

my  patience.  335 

FaL   No,  no,  no  ;  not  so  ;  I  did  not  think  thou  wast 

within  hearing. 
Prince.    I  shall  drive  you  then  to  confess  the  wilful 

abuse,  and  then  I  know  how  to  handle  you. 
FaL   No  abuse,  Hal,  o'  mine  honour  ;   no  abuse.      |340 
Prince.   Not  to  dispraise  me,  and  call  me  pantler 

and  bread-chipper  and  I  know  not  what  ? 


62         t^enn?  fyt  JFourrijt  |3art  3131    Act  n 

Fal.  No  abuse,  Hal. 

Pains.   No  abuse  ? 

FaZ.   No  abuse,  Ned,  i'  the  world ;    honest  Ned,   345 
none.     I  disprais'd  him  before  the  wicked,  that 
the  wicked  might  not  fall  in  love  with  him ; 
in  which  doing,  I  have  done  the  part  of  a  care- 
ful friend  and  a  true  subject,  and  thy  father  is 
to  give  me  thanks  for  it.     No  abuse,  Hal ;  350 
none,  Ned,  none ;  no,  faith,  boys,  none. 

Prince.  See  now,  whether  pure  fear  and  entire  cow- 
ardice doth  not  make  thee  wrong  this  virtuous 
gentlewoman  to  close  with  us  ?  Is  she  of  the 
wicked  ?  Is  thine  hostess  here  of  the  wicked  ?  355 
Or  is  thy  boy  of  the  wicked  ?  Or  honest  Bar- 
dolph,  whose  zeal  burns  in  his  nose,  of  the 
wicked  ? 

Poins.   Answer,  thou  dead  elm,  answer. 

Fal.   The  fiend  hath  prick'd  down  Bardolph  irre- 
coverable ;    and  his  face  is  Lucifer's  privy-   360 
kitchen,  where  he  doth  nothing  but  roast  malt- 
worms.     For  the  boy,  there  is  a  good  angel 
about  him  ;  but  the  devil  blinds  him  too. 

Prince.   For  the  women  ? 

Fal.   For  one  of  them,  she  is  in  hell  already,  and   365 
burns  poor  souls.     For  the  other,  I  owe  her 
money  ;  and  whether  she  be  damn'd  for  that, 
I  know  not. 

Host.  No,  I  warrant  you. 


Sc.  iv    j^enr^  tlje  IFourtlj,  part  3131         63 


Fal.   No,  I  think  thou  art  not  ;    I  think  thou  art  370 
quit  forjthat.     Marry,  there  is  another  indict- 
ment upon  thee,  for  suffering  flesh  to  be  eaten 
in  thy  house,  contrary  to  the  law  ;    for  the 
which  I  think  thou  wilt  howl. 

Host.   All  victuallers  do  so.     What's  a  joint  of  375 
mutton  or  two  in  a  whole  Lent  ? 

Prince.   You,  gentlewoman,  — 

Dol.   What  says  your  Grace  ? 

Fal.   His  grace  says  that  which  his  flesh  rebels 

against.  Peto  knocks  at  door. 

Host.   Who  knocks  so  loud  at  door  ?    Look  to  the    381 
door  there,  Francis. 

Enter  Peto. 

Prince.   Peto,  how  now  !  what  news  ? 

Peto.   The  King  your  father  is  at  Westminster  ; 

And  there  are  twenty  weak  and  wearied  posts   385 
Come  from  the  north  ;   and,  as  I  came  along, 
I  met  and  overtook  a  dozen  captains, 
Bare-headed,  sweating,  knocking  at  the  taverns, 
And  asking  every  one  for  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

Prince.   By  heaven,  Poins,  I  feel  me  much  to  blame,  390 
So  idly  to  profane  the  precious  time, 
When  tempest  of  commotion,  like  the  south 
Borne  with  black  vapour,  doth  begin  to  melt 
And  drop  upon  our  bare  unarmed  heads. 


64         S?ntn?  t\)t  jfourtl),  part  3131    Act  11 

Give  me   my  sword   and    cloak.    Falstaff,  good 
night.  395 

Exeunt    Prince    Henry,    Poins,     [Peto,    and 

Bardolph]. 

Fal.  Now  comes  in  the  sweetest  morsel  of  the 
night,  and  we  must  hence  and  leave  it  un- 
pick'd.  [Knocking  within.]  More  knocking 
at  the  door ! 

[Re-enter  Bardolph.] 

How  now  !  what's  the  matter  ?  400 

Bard.  You  must  away  to  court,  sir,  presently ; 
A  dozen  captains  stay  at  door  for  you. 

Fal.  [To  the  Page.]  Pay  the  musicians,  sirrah.  Fare- 
well, hostess  ;  farewell,  Doll.  You  see,  my  good 
wenches ,  how  men  of  merit  are  sought  after.  The  4  05 
undeserver  may  sleep,  when  the  man  of  action 
is  calPd  on.  Farewell,  good  wenches  ;  if  I  be 
not  sent  away  post,  I  will  see  you  again  ere  I  go. 

Dol.   I  cannot  speak.     If  my  heart  be  no,t  ready  to 

burst,  —  well,  sweet  Jack,  have  a  care  of  thyself.   410 

Fal.   Farewell,  farewell. 

Exeunt  Falstaff  [and  Bardolph]. 

Host.  Well,  fare  thee  well.  I  have  known  thee 
these  twenty-nine  years,  come  peascod-time ; 
but  an  honester  and  truer-hearted  man,  — 
well,  fare  thee  well.  415 


Sc.  iv 


tty  jFourfl),  part  311         65 


Bard.   [Within.]  Mistress  Tearsheet  ! 

Host.   "What's  the  matter  ? 

Bard.  [Within.]  Bid  Mistress  Tearsheet  come  to 
my  master. 

Host.   O,  run,  Doll,  run  ;   run,  good  Doll.     Come.   420 
(She  comes  blubbered.)    Yea,  will  you  come, 
Doll  ?  Exeunt. 


ACT  THIRD 
SCENE  I 

[Westminster.     The  palace.] 
Enter  the  King  in  his  nightgown,  with  a  Page. 

King.   Go  call  the  Earls  of  Surrey  and  of  Warwick ; 
But,  ere  they  come,  bid  them  o'er-read  these  letters, 
And  well  consider  of  them.     Make  good  speed. 

Exit  Page. 

How  many  thousand  of  my  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep  !    O  Sleep,  O  gentle  Sleep, 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee,       6 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
Why  rather,  Sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 
Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee,  10 

And  hush'd  with  buzzing  night-flies  to  thy  slumber, 
Than  in  the  perfum'd  chambers  of  the  great, 
Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
And  lull'd  with  sound  of  sweetest  melody  ? 
O  thou  dull  god,  why  li'st  thou  with  the  vile        15 
In  loathsome  beds,  and  leav'st  the  kingly  couch 
A  watch-case  or  a  common  'larum-bell  ? 
Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
Seal  up  the  ship-boy's  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 
66 


sc.  i      tyenn?  t\)t  5Fourtlj,  ^part  3131         67 


In  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge  20 

And  in  the  visitation  of  the  winds, 
Who  take  the  ruffian  billows  by  the  top, 
Curling  their  monstrous  heads  and  hanging  them 
With  deafening  clamour  in  the  slippery  clouds, 
That,  with  the  hurly,  death  itself  awakes  ?         25 
Canst  thou,  O  partial  Sleep,  give  thy  repose 
To  the  wet  sea-boy  in  an  hour  so  rude, 
And  in  the  calmest  and  most  stillest  night, 
With  all  appliances  and  means  to  boot, 
Deny  it  to  a  king  ?     Then  happy  low,  lie  down  ! 
Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown.  31 

Enter  Warwick  and  Surrey. 

War.   Many  good  morrows  to  your  Majesty  ! 

King.    Is  it  good  morrow,  lords  ? 

War.   'Tis  one  o'clock,  and  past. 

King.   Why,  then,  good  morrow  to  you  all,  my  lords.  35 
Have  you  read  o'er  the  letters  that  I  sent  you  ? 

War.   We  have,  my  liege. 

King.    Then  you  perceive  the  body  of  our  kingdom 
How  foul  it  is  ;  what  rank  diseases  grow, 
And  with  what  danger,  near  the  heart  of  it.       40 

War.    It  is  but  as  a  body  yet  distemper'd  ; 

Which  to  his  former  strength  may  b*e  restor'd 

With  good  advice  and  little  medicine. 

My  Lord  Northumberland  will  soon  be  cool'd. 

King.   0  God  !  that  one  might  read  the  book  of  fate,  45 


68         tytmy  fyt  jfourtl),  |Dart  313)   Act  m 

And  see  the  revolution  of  the  times 

Make  mountains  level,  and  the  continent, 

Weary  of  solid  firmness,  melt  itself 

Into  the  sea  !  and,  other  times,  to  see 

The  beachy  girdle  of  the  ocean  50 

Too    wide    for    Neptune's    hips ;     how    chances 

mock, 

And  changes  fill  the  cup  of  alteration 
With  divers  liquors  !    O,  if  this  were  seen, 
The  happiest  youth,  viewing  his  progress  through, 
What  perils  past,  what  crosses  to  ensue,  55 

Would  shut  the  book,  and  sit  him  down  and  die. 
'Tis  not  ten  years  gone 

Since  Richard  and  Northumberland,  great  friends, 
Did  feast  together,  and  in  two  years  after 
Were  they  at  wars.     It  is  but  eight  years  since  60 
This  Percy  was  the  man  nearest  my  soul, 
Who  like  ?  brother  toiPd  in  my  affairs 
And  laid  his  love  and  life  under  my  foot ; 
Yea,  for  my  sake,  even  to  the  eyes  of  Richard 
Gave  him  defiance.     But  which  of  you  was  by  — 
You,  cousin  Nevil,  as  I  may  remember  —  66 

[To  Warwick.} 

When  Richard,  with  his  eye  brimful  of  tears, 
Then  check'd  and  rated  by  Northumberland, 
Did  speak  these  words,  now  prov'd  a  prophecy  ? 
"Northumberland,  thou  ladder  by  the  which       70 
My  cousin  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne,  — " 


Sc.  I      H?enry  ttje  5FourtIjt  JjDart  3131         69 

Though  then,  God  knows,  I  had  no  such  intent, 
But  that  necessity  so  bow'd  the  state 
That  I  and  greatness  were  compell'd  to  kiss  ;  — 
"The  time  shall  come,"  thus  did  he  follow  it,      75 
"The  time  will  come,  that  foul  sin,  gathering  head, 
Shall  break  into  corruption  :"  so  went  on, 
Foretelling  this  same  time's  condition 
And  the  division  of  our  amity. 

War.   There  is  a  history  in  all  men's  lives,  80 

Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceas'd  ; 
The  which  observed,  a  man  may  prophesy, 
With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 
As  yet  not  come  to  life,  who  in  their  seeds 
And  weak  beginnings  lie  intreasured.  85 

Such  things  become  the  hatch  and  brood  of  time ; 
And  by  the  necessary  form  of  this 
King  Richard  might  create  a  perfect  guess 
That  great  Northumberland,  then  false  to  him, 
Would  of  that  seed  grow  to  a  greater  falseness ;  90 
Which  should  not  find  a  ground  to  root  upon, 
Unless  on  you. 

King.  Are  these  things  then  necessities  ? 

Then  let  us  meet  them  like  necessities. 
And  that  same  word  even  now  cries  out  on  us. 
They  say  the  Bishop  and  Northumberland  95 

Are  fifty  thousand  strong. 

War.  It  cannot  be,  my  lord. 

Rumour  doth  double,  like  the  voice  and  echo, 


70         j^enrB  t\)t  jFourtij,  part  3131   Act  HI 

The  numbers  of  the  feared.     Please  it  your  Grace 
To  go  to  bed.     Upon  my  soul,  my  lord, 
The  powers  that  you  already  have  sent  forth     100 
Shall  bring  this  prize  in  very  easily. 
To  comfort  you  the  more,  I  have  received 
A  certain  instance  that  Glendower  is  dead. 
Your  Majesty  hath  been  this  fortnight  ill, 
And  these  unseason'd  hours  perforce  must  add  105 
Unto  your  sickness. 

King.  I  will  take  your  counsel : 

And  were  these  inward  wars  once  out  of  hand, 
We  would,  dear  lords,  unto  the  Holy  Land. 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  II 

[Gloucestershire.     Before  Justice  Shallow's  house.] 

Enter  Shallow  and  Silence  [meeting];   Mouldy,  Shadow, 
Wart,  Feeble,  Bullcalf  [a  Servant  or  two  with  them]. 

Shal.  Come  on,  come  on,  come  on,  sir ;  give  me 
your  hand,  sir,  give  me  your  hand,  sir.  An 
early  stirrer,  by  the  rood  !  And  how  doth  my 
good  cousin  Silence  ? 

Sil.    Good  morrow,  good  cousin  Shallow.  5 

Shal.  And  how  doth  my  cousin,  your  bedfellow  ? 
and  your  fairest  daughter  and  mine,  my  god- 
daughter Ellen  ? 

Sil.   Alas,  a  black  ousel,  cousin  Shallow  ! 


sc.  H     jjenn?  tfje  jFourti),  part  331         71 


By  yea  and  no,  sir,  I  dare  say  my  cousin    10 
William  is  become  a  good  scholar.     He  is  at 
Oxford  still,  is  he  not  ? 

Sil.    Indeed,  sir,  to  my  cost. 

ShaL   'A  must,  then,  to  the  Inns  o'  Court  shortly. 

I  was  once  of  Clement's  Inn,  where  I  think    15 
they  will  talk  of  mad  Shallow  yet. 

Sil.   You     were     call'd     lusty      Shallow     then, 
cousin. 

ShaL   By  the  mass,  I  was  call'd  anything  ;  and  I 

would  have  done  anything  indeed  too,  and  20 
roundly  too.  There  was  I,  and  little  John 
Doit  of  Staffordshire,  and  black  George 
Barnes,  and  Francis  Pickbone,  and  Will  Squele, 
a  Cots'ol'  man.  You  had  not  four  such 
swinge  bucklers  in  all  the  Inns  o'  Court  again  ; 
and  I  may  say  to  you,  v/e  knew  where  the  25 
bona-robas  were  and  had  the  best  of  them  all 
at  commandment.  Then  was  Jack  Falstaff, 
now  Sir  John,  a  boy,  and  page  to  Thomas 
Mowbray,  Duke  of  Norfolk. 

Sil.    Cousin,  this  Sir  John  that  comes  hither  anon    30 
about  soldiers  ? 

Shot.   The  same  Sir  John,  the  very  same.    I  see  him 
break  Skogan's  head  at  the  court-gate,  when 
'a  was  a  crack  not  thus  high  ;    and  the  very 
same  day  did  I  fight  with  one  Sampson  Stock-     35 
fish,  a  fruiterer,  behind  Gray's  Inn.   Jesu,  Jesu, 


72         S?enri?  t\)t  JFourtlj,  JjDart  3131   Actm 

the  mad  days  that  I  have  spent !     And  to  see 
how  many  of  my  old  acquaintance  are  dead  ! 

Sil.   We  shall  all  follow,  cousin. 

Shal.   Certain,  'tis  certain ;    very  sure,  very  sure.     40 
Death,  as  the  Psalmist  saith,  is  certain  to  all ; 
all  shall  die.     How  a  good  yoke  of  bullocks 
at  Stamford  fair  ? 

Sil.   By  my  troth,  I  was  not  there. 

Shal.   Death  is  certain.     Is  old  Double  of  your    45 
town  living  yet  ? 

Sil.   Dead,  sir. 

Shal.  Jesu,  Jesu,  dead !  'A  drew  a  good  bow ; 
and  dead !  'A  shot  a  fine  shoot.  John  o' 
Gaunt  loved  him  well,  and  betted  much  money  50 
on  his  head.  Dead  !  'a  would  have  clapp'd  i' 
the  clout  at  twelve  score ;  and  carried  you  a 
forehand  shaft  at  fourteen  and  fourteen  and  a 
half,  that  it  would  have  done  a  man's  heart 
good  to  see.  How  a  score  of  ewes  now  ?  55 

Sil.   Thereafter  as  they  be,  a  score  of  good  ewes 
may  be  worth  ten  pounds. 

Shal.   And  is  old  Double  dead  ? 

Sil.   Here  come  two  of  Sir  John  FalstafFs  men,  as 

I  think.  60 

Enter  Bardolph  and  one  with  him. 
Good  morrow,  honest  gentlemen. 


sc.  ii     ^enr^  ttje  jfourt^  p&rt  3131         73 

Bard.    I  beseech  you,  which  is  Justice  Shallow? 

Shal.  I  am  Robert  Shallow,  sir  ;  a  poor  esquire  of 
this  county,  and  one  of  the  King's  justices  of 
the  peace.  What  is  your  good  pleasure  with  me  ?  65 

Bard.  My  captain,  sir,  commends  him  to  you ; 
my  captain,  Sir  John  Falstaff,  a  tall  gentle- 
man, by  heaven,  and  a  most  gallant  leader. 

Shal.   He  greets  me  well,  sir.     I  knew  him  a  good 

backsword  man.     How  doth  the  good  knight  ?      70 
May  I  ask  how  my  lady  his  wife  doth  ? 

Bard.  Sir,  pardon ;  a  soldier  is  better  accommo- 
dated than  with  a  wife. 

Shal.   It  is  well  said,  in  faith,  sir ;    and  it  is  well 

said  indeed  too.      Better  accommodated  !    it   -  75 
is  good ;    yea,   indeed,   is  it.      Good  phrases 
are  surely,  and  ever  were,  very  commendable. 
Accommodated !    it    comes    of    accommodo. 
Very  good  ;    a  good  phrase.  f 

Bard.   Pardon,    sir ;     I    have    heard    the    word.     80 
Phrase  call  you  it  ?     By  this  day,  I  know  not 
the  phrase  ;  but  I  will  maintain  the  word  with 
my  sword  to  be  a  soldier-like  word,  and  a  word 
of  exceeding  good  command,  by  heaven.     Ac- 
commodated ;  that  is,  when  a  man  is,  as  they     85 
say,  accommodated  ;  or  when  a  man  is,  being, 
whereby  'a  may  be  thought  to  be  accommo 
dated  ;  which  is  an  excellent  thing. 


74         H?nuT>  fyt  jfourtl),  part  3131  Act  m 

Enter  Falstaff. 

Shal.   It  is   very  just.     Look,   here  comes  good 

Sir  John.     Give  me  your  good  hand,  give  me     90 

your   worship's    good   hand.     By   my   troth, 

you  like  well  and  bear  your  years  very  well. 

Welcome,  good  Sir  John. 
Fal.   I  am  glad  to  see  you  well,  good  Master  Robert 

Shallow.     Master  Surecard,  as  I  think?  95 

Shal.   No,  Sir  John;    it  is  my  cousin  Silence,  in 

commission  with  me. 
Fed.   Good    Master    Silence,  it    well    befits    you 

should  be  of  the  peace. 

SU.   Your  good  worship  is  welcome.  100 

Fal.   Fie !  this  is  hot  weather,  gentlemen.     Have 

you  provided  me  here  half  a  dozen  sufficient 

men  ? 

Shal.   Marry,  have  we,  sir.     Will  you  sit  ? 
Fal.   Let  me  see  them,  I  beseech  you.  105 

Shal.   Where's  the  roll  ?  where's  the  roll  ?  where's 

the  roll  ?     Let  me  see,  let  me  see,  Jet  me  see. 

So,  so,  so,  so,  so,  so,  so;    yea,  marry,  sir. 

Ralph  Mouldy  !     Let  them  appear  as  I  call ; 

let  them  do  so,  let  them  do  so.     Let  me  see ;    110 

where  is  Mouldy  ? 
Moul.   Here,  an  it  please  you. 
Shal.   What  think  you,  Sir  John  ?     A  good-limb'd 

fellow ;  young,  strong,  and  of  good  friends. 


sc.  ii     j^enn?  tije  jFourt^  jpart  3131         75 


Fal.    Is  thy  name  Mouldy  ?  115 

Moul.   Yea,  an't  please  you. 

FaZ.    'Tis  the  more  time  thou  wert  us'd. 

Shal.   Ha,  ha,  ha  !  most  excellent,  i*  faith  !     Things 

that  are  mouldy  lack  use.    Very  singular  good  ! 

In  faith,  well  said,  Sir  John,  very  well  said.    120 
Fed.   Prick  him. 
Moul.    I  was  prick'd  well  enough  before,  an  you 

could  have  let  me  alone.     My  old  dame  will  be 

undone  now  for  one  to  do  her  husbandry  and 

her  drudgery.     You  need  not  to  have  prick'd    125 

me  ;  there  are  other  men  fitter  to  go  out  than  I. 
Fal.   Go   to  ;      peace,   Mouldy  ;      you     shall   go. 

Mouldy,  it  is  time  you  were  spent. 
Moul.   Spent! 
Shal.   Peace,  fellow,  peace  ;    stand  aside  ;    know   130 

you  where  you  are  ?     For  the  other,  Sir  John, 

let  me  see.     Simon  Shadow  ! 
Fal.   Yea,  marry,  let  me  have  him  to  sit  under; 

he's  like  to  be  a  cold  soldier. 

Shal.    Where's  Shadow  ?  135 

Shad.    Here,  sir. 

Fal.    Shadow,  whose  son  art  thou  ? 
Shad.    My  mother's  son,  sir. 
Fal.   Thy   mother's   son  !   like   enough,    and   thy 

father's  shadow.     So  the  son  of  the  female  is    140 

the  shadow  of  the  male.    It  is  often  so,  indeed  ; 

but  much  of  the  father's  substance  ! 


76         tytntv  ti)t  jFourtl),  pirt  3131  Act  m 


I 


Shal.   Do  you  like  him,  Sir  John  ? 

Fal.   Shadow  will  serve  for  summer.     Prick  him, 

for  we  have  a  number  of  shadows  to  fill  up  the   145 

muster-book. 
Shal.   Thomas  Wart ! 
Fal.   Where's  he? 
Wart.   Here,  sir. 

Fal.    Is  thy  name  Wart  ?  150 

Wart.   Yea,  sir. 

Fal.  Thou  art  a  very  ragged  wart. 
Shal.  Shall  I  prick  him,  Sir  John  ? 
Fal.  It  were  superfluous ;  for  his  apparel  is  built 

upon  his  back  and  the  whole  frame  stands  upon   155 

pins.     Prick  him  no  more. 
Shal.   Ha,  ha,  ha !  you  can  do  it,  sir ;   you  can  do 

it ;  I  commend  you  well.     Francis  Feeble  ! 
Fee.   Here,  sir. 

[Fal.]   What  trade  art  thou,  Feeble  ?  160 

Fee.   A  woman's  tailor,  sir. 
Shal.   Shall  I  prick  him,  sir  ? 
Fal.   You  may  ;  but  if  he  had  been  a  man's  tailor, 

he'd  ha'  prick' d  you.  Wilt  thou  make  as  many 

holes  in  an  enemy's  battle  as  thou  hast  done   165 

in  a  woman's  petticoat  ? 
Fee.   I  will  do  my  good  will,  sir ;  you  can  have  no 

more. 
Fal.   Well  said,  good  woman's  tailor  !  well  said, 

courageous  Feeble  !    Thou  wilt  be  as  valiant   170 


sc.  ii     j^enr^  tty  JFourrt),  part  3131         77 


as  the  wrathful  dove  or  most  magnanimous 
mouse.  Prick  the  woman's  tailor.  Well,  Mas- 
ter Shallow  ;  deep,  Master  Shallow. 

Fee.    I  would  Wart  might  have  gone,  sir. 

Fal.    I  would  thou  wert  a  man's  tailor,  that  thou    175 
mightst  mend  him  and  make  him  fit  to  go.     I 
cannot  put  him  to  a  private  soldier  that  is  the 
leader  of  so  many  thousands.     Let  that  suffice, 
most  forcible  Feeble. 

Fee.   It  shall  suffice,  sir.  180 

Fal.  I  am  bound  to  thee,  reverend  Feeble.  Who 
is  next  ? 

Shal.   Peter  Bullcalf  o'  the  green  ! 

Fal.   Yea,  marry,  let's  see  Bullcalf. 

Bull.   Here,  sir.  185 

Fal.  'Fore  God,  a  likely  fellow  !  Come,  prick  me 
Bullcalf  till  he  roar  again. 

Bull.   O  Lord  !  good  my  lord  captain,  — 

Fal.   What,    dost    thou     roar     before    thou    art 

prick'd  ?  190 

Bull.   O  Lord,  sir  !     I  am  a  diseased  man. 

Fal.   What  disease  hast  thou  ? 

Bull.  A  whoreson  cold,  sir,  a  cough,  sir,  which  I 
caught  with  ringing  in  the  King's  affairs  upon 
his  coronation-day,  sir.  195 

Fal.  Come,  thou  shalt  go  to  the  wars  in  a  gown. 
We  will  have  away  thy  cold  ;  and  I  will  take 
such  order  that  thy  friends  shall  ring  for  thee. 
Is  here  all  ? 


78         5?enrp  tty  jFourri),  part  3131  Act  HI 

Shot.   Here  is  two  more  call'd  than  your  number ;   200 

you  must  have  but  four  here,  sir.     And  so,  I 

pray  you,  go  in  with  me  to  dinner. 
Fal.    Come,  I  will  go  drink  with  you,  but  I  cannot 

tarry  dinner.     I  am  glad  to  see  you,  by  my 

troth,  Master  Shallow.  205 

Shal.   O,  Sir  John,  do  you  remember  since  we  lay  all 

night  in  the  windmill  in  Saint  George's  field  ? 
Fal.   No  more  of  that,  [good]  Master  Shallow  [no 

more  of  that]. 
Shal.   Ha !   'twas   a   merry   night.     And   is  Jane  210 

Nightwork  alive  ? 
Fal.   She  lives,  Master  Shallow. 
Skal.   She  never  could  away  with  me. 
Fal.   Never,   never ;    she  would   always   say  she 

could  not  abide  Master  Shallow.  215 

Shal.   By  the  mass,  I  could  anger  her  to  the  heart. 

She  was  then  a  bona-roba.     Doth  she  hold  her 

own  well  ? 

Fal.   Old,  old,  Master  Shallow. 
Shal.   Nay,  she  must  be  old ;    she  cannot  choose   220 

but  be  old  ;  certain  she's  old  ;  and  had  Robin 

Nightwork  by  old  Nightwork  before  I  came 

to  Clement's  Inn. 
SU.   That's  fifty-five  year  ago. 
Shal.   Ha,  cousin  Silence,  that  thou  hadst  seen  that   225 

that  this  knight  and  I  have  seen !    Ha,  Sir 

John,  said  I  well  ? 


sc.  n     s?mrp  tfce  jfourt^  part  3131         79 

Fal.   We   have   heard    the    chimes    at    midnight, 
Master  Shallow. 

Shal.   That  we  have,  that  we  have,  that  we  have ;   ''SO 
in  faith,  Sir  John,  we  have.     Our  watchword 
was  "Hem,  boys!"     Come,  let's  to  dinner; 
come,  let's  to  dinner.     Jesu,  the  days  that  we 
have  seen  !     Come,  come. 

Exeunt  [Falstaff  and  the  Justwes\ 

Bull.   Good  Master  Corporate  Bardolph,  stand  m;j     285 
friend ;   and  here's  four  Harry  ten  shillings  i) 
French  crowns  for  you.     In  very  truth,  sir,   ' 
had  as  lief  be  hang'd,  sir,  as  go ;   and  yet,  f<  »»• 
mine  own  part,  sir,  I  do  not  care  ;  but  rathe,*, 
because  I  am  unwilling,  and,  for  mine  own  pa  t    S4C 
have  a  desire  to  stay  with  my  friends  ;  else,  ?  • 
I  did  not  care,  for  mine  own  part,  so  much 

Bard.   Go  to  ;  stand  aside. 

Moul.   And,  good  master  corporal  captain,  for  /ay 

[old]  dame's  sake,  stand  my  friend.      She  na,    24£ 
nobody  to  do  anything  about  her  when  :   am 
gone  ;  and  she  is  old,  and  cannot  help  he  i-self 
You  shall  have  forty,  sir. 

Bard.    Go  to  ;   stand  aside. 

Fee.  By  my  troth,  I  care  not ;  a  man  can  die  bat  250 
once  ;  we  owe  God  a  death.  I'll  ne'er  3eai  a 
base  mind.  An't  be  my  destiny,  so  ;  ant  oe 
not,  so.  No  man's  too  good  to  serve 's  orinee 
and  let  it  go  which  way  it  will,  he  that '  Jif*-  mid- 
year is  quit  for  the  next.  26£ 


8o         H?enri?  tty  jFourtl),  H&rt  3131   Act  HI 


Well  said  ;  th'  art  a  good  fellow. 
Fee.   Faith,  I'll  bear  no  base  mind. 

Re-enter  Falstaff  and  the  Justices. 

Fal.   Come,  sir,  which  men  shall  I  have  ? 

Shal.   Four  of  which  you  please. 

Bard.   [Aside  to  Fal.]   Sir,  a  word  with  you.     I  have   260 

three  pound  to  free  Mouldy  and  Bullcalf. 
Fal.   Go  to  ;  well. 
Shal.   Come,    Sir    John,    which    four    will    you 

have? 

Fal.   Do  you  choose  for  me.  265 

Shal.   Marry,  then,  Mouldy,  Bullcalf,  Feeble,  and 

Shadow. 
Fal.   Mouldy  and  Bullcalf  !  for  you,  Mouldy,  stay 

at  home  till  you  are  past  service  ;  and  for  your 

part,  Bullcalf,  grow  till  you  come  unto  it.     I  270 

will  none  of  you. 
Shal.   Sir  John,  Sir  John,  do  not  yourself  wrong. 

They  are  your  likeliest  men,  and  I  would  have 

you  serv'd  with  the  best. 
Fal.   Will  you  tell  me,  Master  Shallow,  how  to   275 

choose  a  man  ?     Care  I  for  the  limb,  the  thews, 

the  stature,  bulk,  and  big  assemblance  of  a  man  ! 

Give  me  the  spirit,  Master  Shallow.     Here's 

Wart  ;  you  see  what  a  ragged  appearance  it  is. 

'A  shall  charge  you  and  discharge  you  with  the   280 

motion  of  a  pewterer's  hammer,  come  off  and 


sc.  ii     j?mn?  t\)t  jFourti),  part  JOB         81 

on  swifter  than  he  that  gibbets  on  the  brewer's 
bucket.  And  this  same  half-fac'd  fellow, 
Shadow  r  give  me  this  man.  He  presents  no 
mark  to  the  enemy ;  the  foeman  may  with  285 
as  great  aim  level  at  the  edge  of  a  penknife. 
And  for  a  retreat ;  how  swiftly  will  this  Feeble 
the  woman's  tailor  run  off  !  O,  give  me  the 
spare  men,  and  spare  me  the  great  ones.  Put 
me  a  caliver  into  Wart's  hand,  Bardolph.  290 

Bard.   Hold,  Wart,  traverse ;    thus,  thus,  thus. 

Fail.    Come,  manage  me  your  caliver.     So  :    very 
well ;    go  to ;    very    good,     exceeding    good. 
O,  give  me  always  a  little,  lean,  old,  chapt, 
bald  shot.     Well  said,  i'  faith,  Wart ;   thou'rt   295 
a  good  scab.     Hold,  there's  a  tester  for  thee. 

Shal.   He  is  not  his  craft's  master ;  he  doth  not  do 
it  right.      I  remember    at    Mile-end   Green, 
when  I  lay  at  Clement's  Inn,  —  I  was  then  Sir 
Dagone't  in  Arthur's  show,  —  there  was  a  little   300 
quiver  fellow,  and  'a  would  manage  you  his 
piece  thus ;    and  'a  would  about  and  about, 
and  come  you  in  and  come  you  in.     "Rah,  tah, 
tah,"  would  'a  say  ;   "bounce  "  would  'a  say  ; 
and  away  again  would  'a  go,  and  again  would   305 
'a  come.     I  shall  ne'er  see  such  a  fellow. 

Fal.  These  fellows  will  do  well,  Master  Shallow. 
God  keep  you,  Master  Silence  ;  I  will  not  use 
many  words  with  you.  Fare  you  well,  gentle- 


82         j^nn?  t\)t  JFoutti),  part  3131   Act  in 


men  both  ;  I  thank  you.     I  must  a  dozen  mile   310 
to-night.     Bardolph,  give  the  soldiers  coats. 

Shal.   Sir  John,  the  Lord  bless  you  !     God  prosper 
your  affairs  !     God  send  us  peace  !     At  your 
return  visit  our  house  ;  let  our  old  acquaint- 
ance be  renewed.     Peradventure  I  will  with  ye   315 
>  to  the  court. 

Fal.   Tore  God,  would  you  would  [Master  Shal- 
low]. 

Shal.   Go  to  ;   I  have  spoke  at  a  word.     God  keep 

you  !  320 

Fal.  Fare  you  well,  gentle  gentlemen.  [Exeunt 
Justices.]  On,  Bardolph  ;  lead  the  men  away. 
[Exeunt  Bardolph,  recruits,  etc.]  As  I  return, 
I  will  fetch  off  these  justices.  I  do  see  the 
bottom  of  Justice  Shallow.  Lord,  Lord,  how  325 
subject  we  old  men  are  to  this  vice  of  lying  ! 
This  same  starv'd  justice  hath  done  nothing  but 
prate  to  me  of  the  wildness  of  his  youth  and 
the  feats  he  hath  done  about  Turnbull  Street  ; 
and  every  third  word  a  lie,  duer  paid  to  the  330 
hearer  than  the  Turk's  tribute.  I  do  remem- 
ber him  at  Clement's  Inn  like  a  man  made  af- 
ter supper  of  a  cheese-paring.  When  'a  was 
naked,  he  was,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  forked 
radish,  with  a  head  fantastically  carv'd  upon  335 
it  with  a  knife.  'A  was  so  forlorn,  that  his 
dimensions  to  any  thick  sight  were  invincible. 


sc.  H     tyenn?  fyt  jfourtt),  JjOart  331         83 

'A  was  the  very  genius  of  famine,  yet  lecherous 
as  a  monkey,  and  the  whores  called  him  man- 
draker  ^ATcame  ever  in  the  rearward  of  the  340 
fashion,  and  sung  those  tunes  to  the  over- 
scutch'd  huswives  that  he  heard  the  carmen 
whistle,  and  sware  they  were  his  fancies  or  his        / 
good-nights.     And  now  is  this  Vice's  dagger    V 
become  a  squire,  and  talks  as  familiarly  of  John 
o'  Gaunt  as  if  he  had  been  sworn  brother  to  him ;   345 
and  I'll  be  sworn  'a  ne'er  saw  him  but  once  in 
the  Tilt-yard  ;  and  then  he  burst  his  head  for 
crowding  among  the  marshal's  men.     I  saw  it, 
and  told  John  o'  Gaunt  he  beat  his  own  name  ; 
for  you  might  have  thrust  him  and  all  his  350 
apparel  into  an  eel-skin.     The  case  of  a  treble 
hautboy  was  a  mansion  for  him,  a  court ;  and 
now  has  he  land  and  beeves.     Well,  I'll  be  ac- 
quainted with  him,  if  I  return  ;  and  it  shall  go 
hard  but  I  will  make  him  a  philosopher's  two   355 
stones  to  me.     If  the  young  dace  be  a  bait  for 
the  old  pike,  I  see  no  reason  in  the  law  of  nature 
but  I  may  snap  at  him.     Let  time  shape,  and 
there  an  end.  Exit 


ACT   FOURTH 
SCENE  I 

[Yorkshire.]     Within  the  Forest  of  Gaultree. 

Enter  the  Archbishop  of  York,  Mowbray,  Hastings  [and 
[others]. 

Arch.   What  is  this  forest  calPd  ? 

Hast.   'Tis  Gaultree  Forest,  an't  shall  please  your  Grace. 

Arch.   Here  stand,  my  lords  ;  and  send  discoverers  forth 
To  know  the  numbers  of  our  enemies. 

Hast.   We  have  sent  forth  already. 

Arch.  'Tis  well  done.     & 

My  friends  and  brethren  in  these  great  affairs, 
I  must  acquaint  you  that  I  have  receiv'd 
New-dated  letters  from  Northumberland ; 
Their  cold  intent,  tenour,  and  substance,  thus  : 
Here  doth  he  wish  his  person,  with  such  powers 
As  might  hold  sortance  with  his  quality,  11 

The  which  he  could  not  levy  ;  whereupon 
He  is  retir'd,  to  ripe  his  growing  fortunes, 
To  Scotland  ;  and  concludes  in  hearty  prayers 
That  your  attempts  may  overlive  the  hazard       15 
And  fearful  meeting  of  their  opposite. 

Mowb.   Thus  do  the  hopes  we  have  in  him  touch  ground 
And  dash  themselves  to  pieces. 


Sc.  i      $tnr£  tty  jfourtl),  part  311         85 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Hast.  Now,  what  news  ? 

Mess.   West  of  this  forest,  scarcely  off  a  mile, 

In  goodly  form  comes  on  the  enemy  ;  20 

And,  by  the  ground  they  hide,  I  judge  their  number 
Upon  or  near  the  rate  of  thirty  thousand. 

Mowb.   The  just  proportion  that  we  gave  them  out. 
Let  us  sway  on  and  face  them  in  the  field. 

Arch.   What  well-appointed  leader  fronts  us  here  ?    25 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

Mowb.    I  think  it  is  my  Lord  of  Westmoreland. 

West.   Health  and  fair  greeting  from  our  general, 
The  Prince,  Lord  John  and  Duke  of  Lancaster. 

Arch.    Say  on,  my  Lord  of  Westmoreland,  in  peace, 
What  doth  concern  your  coming. 

West.  [Then,  my  lord,] 

Unto  your  Grace  do  I  in  chief  address  31 

The  substance  of  my  speech.     If  that  rebellion 
Came  like  itself,  in  base  and  abject  routs, 
Led  on  by  bloody  youth,  guarded  with  rags, 
And  countenanc'd  by  boys  and  beggary,  —  35 

I  say,  if  damn'd  commotion  so  appeared, 
In  his  true,  native,  and  most  proper  shape, 
You,  reverend  father,  and  these  noble  lords 
Had  not  been  here,  to  dress  the  ugly  form 
Of  base  and  bloody  insurrection  40 


86        tymrg  fyt  jfourtl),  ^art  3131   Act  iv 

With  your  fair  honours.     You,  Lord  Archbishop, 
Whose  see  is  by  a  civil  peace  maintain' d, 
Whose  beard  the  silver  hand  of  peace  hath  touch'd, 
Whose    learning    and    good    letters    peace    hath 

tutor'd, 

Whose  white  investments  figure  innocence,  45 

The  dove,  and  very  blessed  spirit  of  peace, 
Wherefore  do  you  so  ill  translate  yourself 
Out  of  the  speech  of  peace  that  bears  such  grace, 
Into  the  harsh  and  boist'rous  tongue  of  war ; 
Turning  your  books  to  graves,  your  ink  to  blood, 
Your  pens  to  lances  and  your  tongue  divine         51 
To  a  loud  trumpet  and  a  point  of  war  ? 
Arch.   Wherefore  do  I  this  ?  so  the  question  stands. 
Briefly  to  this  end  :  we  are  all  diseas'd, 
[And  with  our  surfeiting  and  wanton  hours  55 

Have  brought  ourselves  into  a  burning  fever, 
And  we  must  bleed  for  it ;  of  which  disease 
Our  late  king,  Richard,  being  infected,  died. 
But,  my  most  noble  Lord  of  Westmoreland, 
I  take  not  on  me  here  as  a  physician,  60 

Nor  do  I  as  an  enemy  to  peace 
Troop  in  the  throngs  of  military  men ; 
But  rather  show  awhile  like  fearful  war 
To  diet  rank  minds  sick  of  happiness,  64 

And  purge  the  obstructions  which  begin  to  stop 
Our  very  veins  of  life.     Hear  me  more  plainly. 
I  have  in  equal  balance  justly  weigh'd 


sc.  i      s?enr£  rfje  jfourtf),  }JDart  3131         87 

What  wrongs  our  arms  may  do,  what  wrongs  we 


And  find  our  griefs  heavier  than  our  offences. 

We  see  which  way  the  stream  of  time  doth  run,  70 

And  are  enforced  from  our  most  quiet  there 

By  the  rough  torrent  of  occasion  ; 

And  have  the  summary  of  all  our  griefs, 

When  time  shall  serve,  to  show  in  articles  ; 

Which  long  ere  this  we  offer'd  to  the  King,          75 

And  might  by  no  suit  gain  our  audience. 

When  we  are  wrong'd  and  would  unfold  our  griefs, 

We  are  deni'd  access  unto  his  person 

Even  by  those  men  that  most  have  done  us  wrong.] 

The  dangers  of  the  days  but  newly  gone,  80 

Whose  memory  is  written  on  the  earth 

With  yet  appearing  blood,  and  the  examples 

Of  every  minute's  instance,  present  now, 

Hath  put  us  in  these  ill-beseeming  arms, 

Not  to  break  peace  or  any  branch  of  it,  85 

But  to  establish  here  a  peace  indeed, 

Concurring  both  in  name  and  quality. 

West  .   When  ever  yet  was  your  appeal  denied  ? 
Wherein  have  you  been  galled  by  the  King  ? 
What  peer  hath  been  suborn'd  to  grate  on  you,  90 
That  you  should  seal  this  lawless  bloody  book  , 
Of  forg'd  rebellion  with  a  seal  divine 
And  consecrate  commotion's  bitter  edge  ? 

Arch,   My  brother  general,  the  commonwealth, 


88         tytmy  ttje  jfourtl),  part  3l2f|  Act  iv 

To  brother  born  an  household  cruelty.  95 

I  make  my  quarrel  in  particular. 

West.   There  is  no  need  of  any  such  redress  ; 
Or  if  there  were,  it  not  belongs  to  you. 

Mowb.   Why  not  to  him  in  part,  and  to  us  all 

That  feel  the  bruises  of  the  days  before,  100 

And  suffer  the  condition  of  these  times 
To  lay  a  heavy  and  unequal  hand 
Upon  our  honours  ? 

West.  [O,  my  good  Lord  Mowbray, 
Construe  the  times  to  their  necessities, 
And  you  shall  say  indeed,  it  is  the  time,  105 
And  not  the  King,  that  doth  you  injuries. 
Yet  for  your  part,  it  not  appears  to  me 
Either  from  the  King  or  in  the  present  time 
That  you  should  have  an  inch  of  any  ground 
To  build  a  grief  on.     Were  you  not  restor'd       110 
To  all  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  signories, 
-j[™.ir  noble  and  right  well-rememb'red  father's  ? 

Mowb.   What  thing,  in  honour,  had  my  father  lost, 
That  need  to  be  reviv'd  and  breath' d  in  note  ? 
The  King  that  lov'd  him,  as  the  state  stood  then, 
Was,  force  perforce,  compell'd  to  banish  him  ;    116 
And  then  that  Henry  Bolingbroke  and  he, 
Being  mounted  and  both  roused  in  their  seats, 
Their  neighing  coursers  daring  of  the  spur,         119 
Their  armed  staves  in  charge,  their  beavers  down, 
Their  eyes  of  fire  sparkling  through  sights  of  steel, 


Sc.  i      s?mn?  rt)*  Jfourtlj,  pirt  331         89 

And  the  loud  trumpet  blowing  them  together, 
Then,  then,  when  there  was  nothing  could  have 

stay'd 

My  father  from  the  breast  of  Bolingbroke,          124 
O,  when  the  King  did  throw  his  warder  down  — 
His  own  life  hung  upon  the  staff  he  threw,  — 
Then  threw  he  down  himself  and  all  their  lives 
That  by  indictment  and  by  dint  of  sword 
Have  since  miscarried  under  Bolingbroke. 
West.  You  speak,  Lord  Mowbray,  now  you  know  not 

what.  130 

The  Earl  of  Hereford  was  reputed  then 
In  England  the  most  valiant  gentleman. 
Who  knows  on  whom  Fortune  would  then  have 

smil'd? 

But  if  your  father  had  been  victor  there, 
He  ne'er  had  borne  it  out  of  Coventry  ;  135 

For  all  the  country  in  a  general  voice 
Cried  hate  upon  him ;    and  all  their  prayers  and 

love 

Were  set  on  Hereford,  whom  they  doted  on 
And  bless' d  and  grac'd  and  did,  more  than  the 

King,  —  ] 

But  this  is  mere  digression  from  my  purpose.     140 
Here  come  I  from  our  princely  general 
To  know  your  griefs ;    to  tell  you  from  his  Grace 
That  he  will  give  you  audience  ;  and  wherein 
It  shall  appear  that  your  demands  are  just, 


90         l^enri?  tlje  jfourtl),  ^part  3131  Act  iv 


You  shall  enjoy  them,  everything  set  off  145 

That  might  so  much  as  think  you  enemies. 
Mowb.   But  he  hath  forc'd  us  to  compel  this  offer  ; 

And  it  proceeds  from  policy,  not  love. 
West.   Mowbray,  you  overween  to  take  it  s*o  ; 

This  offer  comes  from  mercy,  not  from  fear.       150 

For,  lo  !  within  a  ken  our  army  lies, 

Upon  mine  honour,  all  too  confident 

To  give  admittance  to  a  thought  of  fear. 

Our  battle  is  more  full  of  names  than  yours, 

Our  men  more  perfect  in  the  use  of  arms,  155 

Our  armour  all  as  strong,  our  cause  the  best  ; 

Then  reason  will  our  hearts  should  be  as  good. 

Say  you  not  then  our  offer  is  compell'd. 
Mowb.   Well,  by  my  will  we  shall  admit  no  parley. 
West.   That  argues  but  the  shame  of  your  offence. 

A  rotten  case  abides  no  handling.  161 

Hast.   Hath  the  Prince  John  a  full  commission, 

In  very  ample  virtue  of  his  father, 

To  hear  and  absolutely  to  determine 

Of  what  conditions  we  shall  stand  upon  ?  165 

West.   That  is  intended  in  the  general's  name. 

I  muse  you  make  so  slight  a  question. 
Arch.   Then   take,   my   Lord   of   Westmoreland,    this 
schedule, 

For  this  contains  our  general  grievances. 

Each  several  article  herein  redress'd,  170 

All  members  of  our  cause,  both  here  and  hence, 


Sc.  i      J^enrp  ttie  jfourtlj,  JDart  3131         91 

That  are  insinewed  to  this  action, 

Acquitted  by  a  true  substantial  form 

And  present  execution  of  our  wills 

To  us  and  to  our  purposes  confin'd,  175 

We  come  within  our  awful  banks  again 

And  knit  our  powers  to  the  arm  of  peace. 

West.   This  will  I  show  the  general.     Please  you,  lords, 
In  sight  of  both  our  battles  we  may  meet ; 
And  either  end  in  peace,  which  God  so  frame  !  180 
Or  to  the  place  of  difference  call  the  swords 
Which  must  decide  it.  Exit  West. 

Arch.  My  lord,  we  will  do  so. 

Mowb.   There  is  a  thing  within  my  bosom  tells  me 
That  no  conditions  of  our  peace  can  stand. 

Hast.   Fear  you  not  that.     If  we  can  make  our  peace 
Upon  such  large  terms  and  so  absolute  186 

As  our  conditions  shall  consist  upon, 
Our  peace  shall  stand  as  firm  as  rocky  mountains. 

Mowb.   Yea,  but  our  valuation  shall  be  such 

That  every  slight  and  false-derived  cause,  190 

Yea,  every  idle,  nice,  and  wanton  reason 
Shall  to  the  King  taste  of  this  action  ; 
That,  were  our  royal  faiths  martyrs  in  love, 
We  shall  be  winnow'd  with  so  rough  a  wind 
That  even  our  corn  shall  seem  as  light  as  chaff  195 
And  good  from  bad  find  no  partition. 

Arch.   No,  no,  my  lord.     Note  this  :  the  King  is  weary 
Of  dainty  and  such  picking  grievances ; 


92         s?mn?  tije  jFourtJi,  part  3f|3l  Activ 

For  he  hath  found  to  end  one  doubt  by  death 

Revives  two  greater  in  the  heirs  of  life,  200 

And  therefore  will  he  wipe  his  tables  clean 

And  keep  no  tell-tale  to  his  memory 

That  may  repeat  and  history  his  loss 

To  new  remembrance  ;  for  full  well  he  knows 

He  cannot  so  precisely  weed  this  land  205 

As  his  misdoubts  present  occasion. 

His  foes  are  so  enrooted  with  his  friends 

That,  plucking  to  unfix  an  enemy, 

He  doth  unfasten  so  and  shake  a  friend ; 

So  that  this  land,  like  an  offensive  wife  210 

That  hath  enrag'd  him  on  to  offer  strokes, 

As  he  is  striking,  holds  his  infant  up 

And  hangs  resolv'd  correction  in  the  arm 

That  was  uprear'd  to  execution. 

Hast.   Besides,  the  King  hath  wasted  all  his  rods      215 
On  late  offenders,  that  he  now  doth  lack 
The  very  instruments  of  chastisement ; 
So  that  his  power,  like  to  a  fangless  lion, 
May  offer,  but  not  hold. 

Arch.  'Tis  very  true  ; 

And  therefore  be  assured,  my  good  Lord  Marshal, 
If  we  do  now  make  our  atonement  well,  221 

Our  peace  will,  like  a  broken  limb  united, 
Grow  stronger  for  the  breaking. 

Mowb.  Be  it  so. 

Here  is  return'd  my  Lord  of  Westmoreland. 


sc.  ii     ^enr^  tlje  jFourtlj,  part  3131         93 


Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

West.   The  Prince  is  here  at  hand.     Pleaseth  your  lord- 

ship 225 

To  meet  his  Grace  just  distance  'tween  our  armies. 

Mowb.   Your  Grace  of  York,  in  God's  name,  then,  set 

forward. 

Arch.  Before,  and  greet  his  Grace.    My  lord,  we  come. 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  II 
[Another  part  of  the  forest] 

Enter  [from  one  side,  Mowbray,  attended;  afterwards 
the  Archbishop,  Hastings,  and  others  :  from  the  other 
side,]  Prince  John  of  Lancaster  [and  Westmoreland  ; 
Officers,  and  others  with  them]. 

Lan.  You    are    well    encount'red    here,    my    cousin 

Mowbray. 

Good  day  to  you,  gentle  Lord  Archbishop  ; 
And  so  to  you,  Lord  Hastings,  and  to  all. 
My  Lord  of  York,  it  better  show'd  with  you 
When  that  your  flock,  assembled  by  the  bell,        5 
Encircled  you  to  hear  with  reverence 
Your  exposition  on  the  holy  text 
Than  now  to  see  you  here  an  iron  man, 
Cheering  a  rout  of  rebels  with  your  drum, 
Turning  the  word  to  sword  and  life  to  death.       10 


94         tyenn?  tlje  jFourtlj,  jpart  3(31  Act  iv 


That  man  that  sits  within  a  monarch's  heart, 
And  ripens  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favour, 
Would  he  abuse  the  countenance  of  the  King, 
Alack,  what  mischiefs  might  he  set  abroach 
In  shadow  of  such  greatness  !    With  you,  Lord 
Bishop,  15 

It  is  even  so.     Who  hath  not  heard  it  spoken 
How  deep  you  were  within  the  books  of  God  ? 
To  us  the  speaker  in  His  parliament  ; 
To  us  the  imagin'd  voice  of  God  himself  ; 
The  very  opener  and  intelligencer  20 

Between  the  grace,  the  sanctities,  of  Heaven 
And  our  dull  workings.     O,  who  shall  believe 
But  you  misuse  the  reverence  of  your  place, 
Employ  the  countenance  and  grace  of  Heaven, 
As  a  false  favourite  doth  his  prince's  name,          25 
In  deeds  dishonourable  ?     You  have  ta'en  up, 
Under  the  counterfeited  zeal  of  God, 
The  subjects  of  His  substitute,  my  father, 
And  both  against  the  peace  of  Heaven  and  him 
Have  here  upswarm'ed  them. 

Arch.  Good  my  Lord  of  Lancaster, 

I  am  not  here  against  your  father's  peace  ;  31 

But,  as  I  told  my  Lord  of  Westmoreland, 
The  tune  misord'red  doth,  in  common  sense, 
Crowd  us  and  crush  us  to  this  monstrous  form, 
To  hold  our  safety  up.     I  sent  your  Grace  35 

The  parcels  and  particulars  of  our  grief, 


sc.  ii     J^enn?  tlje  jfourt^  ^art  3131         95 

The  which  hath  been  with  scorn  shov'd  from  the 

couri, — 

Whereon  this  Hydra  son  of  war  is  born ; 
Whose  dangerous  eyes  may  well  be  charm'd  asleep 
With  grant  of  our  most  just  and  right  desires  ;    4<^ 
And  true  obedience,  of  this  madness  cur'd, 
Stoop  tamely  to  the  foot  of  majesty. 

Mowb.   If  not,  we  ready  are  to  try  our  fortunes 
To  the  last  man. 

Hast.  And  though  we  here  fall  down, 

We  have  supplies  to  second  our  attempt.  45 

If  they  miscarry,  theirs  shall  second  them ; 
And  so  success  of  mischief  shall  be  born, 
And  heir  from  heir  shall  hold  this  quarrel  up 
Whiles  England  shall  have  generation. 

Lan.   You  are  too  shallow,  Hastings,  much  too  shallow, 
To  sound  the  bottom  of  the  after-times.  51 

West.   Pleaseth  your  Grace  to  answer  them  directly 
How  far  forth  you  do  like  their  articles. 

Lan.   I  like  them  all,  and  do  allow  them  well, 

And  swear  here,  by  the  honour  of  my  blood,        55 
My  father's  purposes  have  been  mistook, 
And  some  about  him  have  too  lavishly 
Wrested  his  meaning  and  authority. 
My  lord,  these  griefs  shall  be  with  speed  redress'd  ; 
Upon  my  soul ,  they  shall .    If  this  may  please  you ,  60 
Discharge  your  powers  unto  their  several  counties, 
As  we  will  ours  ;  and  here  between  the  armies 


96         j£mtT  tije  ;tfourtt),  part  3131  Act  iv 

Let's  drink  together  friendly  and  embrace, 

That  all  their  eyes  may  bear  those  tokens  home 

Of  our  restored  love  and  amity.  65 

Arch.   I  take  your  princely  word  for  these  redresses. 
Lan.    I  give  it  you,  and  will  maintain  my  word  ; 

And  thereupon  I  drink  unto  your  Grace. 
[Hast.]   Go,  captain,  and  deliver  to  the  army  69 

This  news  of  peace.     Let  them  have  pay,  and  part. 

I  know  it  will  well  please  them.     Hie  thee,  captain. 

Exit  [Officer]. 

Arch.   To  you,  my  noble  Lord  of  Westmoreland. 
West.   I  pledge  your  Grace  ;  and,  if  you  knew  what  pains 

I  have  bestow'd  to  breed  this  present  peace, 

You  would  drink  freely.     But  my  love  to  ye       75 

Shall  show  itself  more  openly  hereafter. 
Arch.    I  do  not  doubt  you. 
West.  I  am  glad  of  it. 

Health  to  my  lord  and  gentle  cousin,  Mowbray. 
Mowb.   You  wish  me  health  in  very  happy  season ; 

For  I  am,  on  the  sudden,  something  ill.  80 

Arch.   Against  ill  chances  men  are  ever  merry  ; 

But  heaviness  foreruns  the  good  event. 
West.   Therefore  be  merry,  coz ;   since  sudden  sorrow 

Serves  to  say  thus,  some  good  thing  comes  tomor- 
row. 

Arch.   Believe  me,  I  am  passing  light  in  spirit.  85 

Mowb.   So  much  the  worse,  if  your  own  rule  be  true. 

Shouts  [within]. 


sc.  ii     J?ntrs  tty  jfourtl),  pot  3131         97 

Lan.   The  word  of  peace  is  rendered.    Hark,  how  they 

shout ! 

Mowb.   Thisliad  been  cheerful  after  victory. 
Arch.   A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  conquest ; 

For  then  both  parties  nobly  are  subdu'd,  90 

And  neither  party  loser. 
Lan.  Go,  my  lord, 

And  let  our  army  be  discharged  too. 

And,  good  my  lord,  so  please  you,  let  your  trains 

March  by  us,  that  we  may  peruse  the  men 

Exit  [Westmoreland]. 

We  should  have  cop'd  withal. 
Arch.  Go,  good  Lord  Hastings, 

And,  ere  they  be  dismissed,  let  them  march  by.  96 

Exit  [Hastings]. 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

Lan.   I  trust,  lords,  we  shall  lie  to-night  together. 

Now  cousin,  wherefore  stands  our  army  still  ? 
West.   The  leaders,  having  charge  from  you  to  stand, 

Will  not  go  off  until  they  hear  you  speak.  100 

Lan.   They  know  their  duties. 

Re-enter  Hastings. 

Hast.   My  lord,  our  army  is  dispers'd  already. 

Like   youthful   steers   unyok'd,   they   take   their 
courses 
H 


98         ^enn?  tije  jfourt^  part  313  Act  iv 


East,  west,  north,  south ;  or,  like  a  school  broke 

up, 

Each  hurries  toward  his  home  and  sporting-place. 
West.   Good    tidings,    my    Lord    Hastings ;     for    the 
which  106 

I  do  arrest  thee,  traitor,  of  high  treason ; 
And  you,  Lord  Archbishop,  and  you,  Lord  Mow- 
bray, 

Of  capital  treason  I  attach  you  both. 
Mowb.    Is  this  proceeding  just  and  honourable  ?        110 
West.    Is  your  assembly  so  ? 
Arch.   Will  you  thus  break  your  faith  ? 
Lan.  I  pawn'd  thee  none. 

I  promised  you  redress  of  these  same  grievances 
Whereof    you    did    complain ;     which,    by    mine 

honour, 

I  will  perform  with  a  most  Christian  care.          115 
But  for  you,  rebels,  look  to  taste  the  due 
Meet  for  rebellion  [and  such  acts  as  yours]. 
Most  shallowly  did  you  these  arms, commence, 
Fondly  brought  here  and  foolishly  sent  hence. 
Strike     up     our     drums,     pursue     the     scatt'red 

stray. 

God,  and  not  we,  hath  safely  fought  to-day.       121 
Some  guard  these  traitors  to  the  block  of  death, 
Treason's  true  bed  and  yielder  up  of  breath. 

Exeunt. 


Sc.  HI    ^ntrs  tlje  jFourtl),  part  3131         99 

SCENE  ill 

[Another  part  of  the  forest.] 

Alarums.    Excursion.    Enter  Falstaff  and  Colville 
[meeting]. 

Fal.   What's  your  name,  sir  ?     Of  what  condition 
are  you,  and  of  what  place,  [I  pray]  ? 

Col.   I  am  a  knight,  sir ;  and  my  name  is  Colville 
of  the  Dale. 

Fal.  Well,  then,  Colville  is  your  name,  a  knight  5 
is  your  degree,  and  your  place  the  Dale. 
Colville  shall  be  still  your  name,  a  traitor 
your  degree,  and  the  dungeon  your  place,  a 
place  deep  enough ;  so  shall  you  be  still  Col- 
ville of  the  Dale.  10 

Col.   Are  not  you  Sir  John  Falstaff  ? 

Fal.   As  good  a  man  as  he,  sir,  whoe'er  I  am.     Do 

•          ye  yield,  sir  ?   or  shall  I  sweat  for  you  ?     If  I 
do  sweat,  they  are  the  drops  of  thy  lovers,  and 
they  weep  for  thy  death  ;   therefore  rouse  up      15 
fear  and  trembling,  and  do  observance  to  my 
mercy. 
Col.   I  think  you  are  Sir  John  Falstaff,  and  in 

that  thought  yield  me. 

Fal.    I  have  a  whole  school  of  tongues  in  this  belly    20 
of  mine,  and  not  a  tongue  of  them  all  speaks 
any  other  word  but  my  name.     An  I  had  but 


ioo        tymty  tlje  jfourt^  part  3|J|  Activ 


a  belly  of  any  indifferency,  I  were  simply  the 
most  active  fellow  in  Europe.     My  womb,  my 
womb,  my  womb,  undoes  me.      Here  comes    £5 
our  general. 

Enter  Prince  John  of  Lancaster,  Westmoreland,  [Blunt] 
and  others. 

Lan.   The  heat  is  past  ;  follow  no  further  now. 

Call  in  the  powers,  good  cousin  Westmoreland. 

[Exit  Westmoreland.] 

Now,  Falstaff  ,  where  have  you  been  all  this  while  ? 
\When  everything  is  ended,  then  you  come.  30 

fThese  tardy  tricks  of  yours  will,  on  my  life, 
IDne  time  or  other  break  some  gallows'  back. 

Fal.    I  would  be  sorry,  my  lord,  but  it  should  be 
thus.     I  never  knew  yet  but  rebuke  and  check 
was  the  reward  of  valour.      Do  you  think  me     35 
a  swallow,  an  arrow,  or  a  bullet  ?     Have  I, 
in  my  poor  and  old  motion,  the  expedition 
of  thought  ?     I  have  speeded  hither  with  the 
very  extremest  inch  of  possibility  ;    I  have 
found'red  ninescore  and  odd  posts  ;  and  here,     40 
travel-tainted  as  I  am,  have,  in  my  pure  and  im- 
maculate valour,  taken  Sir  John  Colville  of  the 
Dale,  a  most  furious  knight  and  valorous  enemy. 
But  what  of  that  ?     He  saw  me,  and  yielded  ; 
that  I  may  justly  say,  with   the  hook-nos'd     45 
fellow  of  Rome,  "  I  came,  saw,  and  overcame." 


sc.  in    S?rar2  tty  jFourtJj,  ;jpart  3131        101 

Lan.   It  was  more  of  his  courtesy  than  your  deserv- 
ing. 

Fal.   I  know  not.     Here  he  is,  and  here  I  yield 

him ;    and  I  beseech  your  Grace,  let  it  be     50 
book'd  with  the  rest  of  this  day's  deeds ;   or, 
by  the  Lord,  I  will  have  it  in  a  particular  ballad 
else,  with  mine  own  picture  on  the  top  on't, 
Colville  kissing  my  foot ;  to  the  which  course  if 
I  be  enforc'd,  if  you  do  not  all  show  like  gilt     55 
twopences  to  me,  and  I  in  the  clear  sky  of  fame 
o'ershine  you  as  much  as  the  full  moon  doth  the 
cinders  of  the  element,  which  show  like  pins' 
heads  to  her,  believe  not  the  word  of  the  noble. 
Therefore  let  me  have  right,  and  let  desert     60 
mount. 

Lan.  Thine' s  too  heavy  to  mount. 

Fal.   Let  it  shine,  then. 

Lan.   Thine's  too  thick  to  shine. 

Fal.  Let  it  do  something,  my  good  lord,  that  may     65 
do  me  good,  and  call  it  what  you  will. 

Lan.    Is  thy  name  Colville  ? 

Col.    It  is,  my  lord. 

Lan.   A  famous  rebel  art  thou,  Colville. 

Fal.   And  a  famous  true  subject  took  him.  70 

Col.    I  am,  my  lord,  but  as  my  betters  are 

That  led  me  hither.     Had  they  been  rul'd  by  me, 
You  should  have  won  them    dearer    than    you 
have. 


loa        J?enrt!  tfie  jfourtlj,  part  313  Act  iv 

Fal.    I  know  not  how  they  sold  themselves ;   but 

thou,  like  a  kind  fellow,  gav'st  thyself  away    75 
gratis  ;  and  I  thank  thee  for  thee. 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

Lan.   Now,  have  you  left  pursuit  ? 

West.   Retreat  is  made  and  execution  stay'd. 

Lan.   Send  Colville  with  his  confederates 

To  York,  to  present  execution.  80 

Blunt,  lead  him  hence ;    and  see  you  guard  him 
sure. 

Exeunt  [Blunt  and  others]  with  Colville. 
And  now    dispatch    we    toward   the    court,   my 

lords ; 

I  hear  the  King  my  father  is  sore  sick. 
Our  news  shall  go  before  us  to  his  Majesty, 
Which,  cousin,  you  shall  bear  to  comfort  him,     85 
And  we  with  sober  speed  will  follow  you. 
Fal.   My  lord,  I  beseech  you,  give  me  leave  to  go 

Through    Gloucestershire ;    and,  when  you  come 

to  court, 

Stand   my  good    lord,    [pray,]   in   your  good   re- 
port. 

Lan.   Fare  you  well,  Falstaff.     I,  in  my  condition,     90 
Shall  better  speak  of  you  than  you  deserve. 

Exeunt  [all  but  Falstaff]. 

Fal.   I  would  you  had  [but]  the  wit ;  'twere  better 
than  your  dukedom.     Good  faith,  this  same 


sc.  in    ^enn?  t\)t  jffourtlj,  part  3131        103 


young  sober-blooded  boy  doth  not  love  me, 
nor  a  man  cannot  make  him  laugh  ;  but  that's     95 
no  marvel,  he  drinks  no  wine.     There's  never  */ 
none  of  these  demure  boys  come  to  any  proof  ; 
for  thin  drink  doth  so  over-cool  their  blood, 
and  making  many  fish-meals,  that  they  fall 
into  a  kind  of  male  green-sickness  ;  and  then,    100 
when  they  marry,  they  get  wenches.  j/They 
are  generally  fools  and  cowards  ;   which  some 
of  us  should  be  too,  but  for  inflammation.     A 
good  sherris-sack  hath  a  two-fold  operation  in 
it.     It  ascends  me  into  the  brain  ;    dries  me    105 
there    all    the    foolish    and    dull    and    crudy 
vapours  which  environ  it  ;  makes  it  apprehen- 
sive,  quick,   forgetive,   full  of  nimble,   fiery, 
and  delectable   shapes  ;    which,  deliver'd  o'er 
to  the  voice,  the  tongue,  which  is  the  birth, 
becomes  excellent  wit.     The  second  property   110 
of  your  excellent  sherris  is,  the  warming  of  the 
blood  ;  which,  before  cold  and  settled,  left  the 
liver  white  and  pale,  which  is  the  badge  of 
pusillanimity  and  cowardice  ;    but  the  sherris 
warms  it  and  makes  it  course  from  the  inwards   115 
to    the    parts    extremes.     It    illumineth    the 
face,  which  as  a  beacon  gives  warning  to  all  the 
rest  of  this  little  kingdom,  man,  to  arm  ;  and 
then  the  vital  commoners  and  inland  petty 
spirits  muster  me  all  to  their  captain,  the  heart,   120 


104        J?*nr2  tty  jFourtlj,  ^art  3131   Act  iv 


who,  great  and  puff'd  up  with  this  retinue, 
doth  any  deed  of  courage  ;    and  this  valour 
comes  of  sherris.     So  that  skill  in  the  weapon  is 
nothing  without  sack,  for  that  sets  it  a-work  ; 
and  learning  a  mere  hoard  of  gold  kept  by  a   125 
devil,  till  sack  commences  it  and  sets  it  in  act 
and  use.     Hereof  comes  it  that  Prince  Harry  is 
valiant  ;    for  the  cold  blood  he  did  naturally 
inherit  of  his  father,  he  hath,  like  lean,  sterile, 
and  bare  land,  manured,  husbanded,  and  tilPd   130 
with   excellent   endeavour   of   drinking   good 
and  good  store  of  fertile  sherris,  that  he  is  be- 
come very  hot  and  valiant.     If  I  had  a  thou-  ~ 
sand  sons,  the  first  humane  principle  I  would 
teach  them  should  be,  to  forswear  thin  pota-    135 
tions  and  to  addict  themselves  to  sack. 

Enter  Bardolph. 

How  now,  Bardolph  ? 

Bard.   The  army  is  discharged  all  and  gone. 

Fal.   Let  them  go.     I'll  through  Gloucestershire  ; 
and  there  will  I  visit  Master  Robert  Shallow, 
esquire.     I  have  him  already  tempering  be-    140 
tween  my  finger  and  my  thumb,  and  shortly 
will  I  seal  with  him.    Come  away. 

Exeunt. 


sc.  iv    n?enn?  t\)t  jfourty,  |3art  3131        105 


SCENE  IV. 
[Westminster.     The  Jerusalem  Chamber.] 

Enter  the  King,  the  Princes   Thomas  of  Clarence  and 
Humphrey  of  Gloucester,   Warwick  [and  others]. 

King.   Now,  lords,  if  God  doth  give  successful  end 
To  this  debate  that  bleedeth  at  our  doors, 
We  will  our  youth  lead  on  to  higher  fields, 
And  draw  no  swords  but  what  are  sanctifi'd. 
Our  navy  is  address'd,  our  power  collected,  5 

Our  substitutes  in  absence  well  invested, 
And  everything  lies  level  to  our  wish. 
Only,  we  want  a  little  personal  strength  ; 
And  pause  us,  till  these  rebels,  now  afoot, 
Come  underneath  the  yoke  of  government.  10 

War.   Both  which  we  doubt  not  but  your  Majesty 
Shall  soon  enjoy. 

King.  Humphrey,  my  son  of  Gloucester, 

Where  is  the  Prince  your  brother  ? 

Glou.    I  think  he's  gone  to  hunt,  my  lord,  at  Windsor. 

King.   And  how  accompanied  ? 

Glou.  I  do  not  know,  my  lord. 

King.   Is  not  his  brother,  Thomas  of  Clarence,  with 
him  ?  16 

Glou.   No,  my  good  lord  ;  he  is  in  presence  here. 

Clar.   What  would  my  lord  and  father  ? 

King.   Nothing  Imt  well  to  thee,  Thomas  of  Clarence. 


io6        tytnrg  tlje  jFourtlj,  part  3131   Act  iv 

How  chance  thou  art  not  with  the  Prince  thy 
brother  ?  20 

He  loves  thee,  and  thou  dost  neglect  him,  Thomas. 
Thou  hast  a  better  place  in  his  affection 
Than  all  thy  brothers.     Cherish  it,  my  boy, 
And  noble  offices  thou  mayst  effect 
;   Of  mediation,  after  I  am  dead,  25 

Between  his  greatness  and  thy  other  brethren. 
.   Therefore  omit  him  not ;  blunt  not  his  love, 
!   Nor  lose  the  good  advantage  of  his  grace 
\  By  seeming  cold  or  careless  of  his  will. 
For  he  is  gracious,  if  he  be  observ'd  ;  30 

He  hath  a  tear  for  pity,  and  a  hand 
Open  as  day  for  melting  charity ; 
:;  Yet  notwithstanding,  being  incens'd,  he's  flint, 
As  humorous  as  winter,  and  as  sudden 
As  flaws  congealed  in  the  spring  of  day.  35 

His  temper,  therefore,  must  be  well  observ'd. 
Chide  him  for  faults,  and  do  it  reverently, 
When  you  perceive  his  blood  inclin'd  to  mirth  ; 
But,  being  moody,  give  him  time  and  scope, 
Till  that  his  passions,  like  a  whale  on  ground,      40 
Confound  themselves  with  working.    Learn  this, 

Thomas, 

And  thou  shalt  prove  a  shelter  to  thy  friends, 
A  hoop  of  gold  to  bind  thy  brothers  in, 
That  the  united  vessel  of  their  blood, 
Mingled  with  venom  of  suggestion,  45 


sc.  iv    ^enrs  tty  J?ou«lu  put  331        107 


As,  force  perforce,  the  age  will  pour  it  in, 
Shall  never  leak,  though  it  do  work  as  strong 
As  acoiiitum  or  rash  gunpowder. 

Clar.    I  shall  observe  him  with  all  care  and  love. 

King.   Why    art    thou    not    at    Windsor    with    him, 
Thomas  ?  50 

Clar.   He  is  not  there  to-day  ;  he  dines  in  London. 

King.   And  how  accompanied  ?     [Canst  thou  tell  that  ?] 

Clar.   With  Poins,  and  other  his  continual  followers. 

King.   Most  subject  is  the  fattest  soil  to  weeds, 

And  he,  the  noble  image  of  my  youth,  55 

Is  overspread  with  them  ;  therefore  my  grief 
Stretches  itself  beyond  the  hour  of  death. 
The  blood  weeps  from  my  heart  when  I  do  shape 
In  forms  imaginary  the  unguided  days 
And  rotten  times  that  you  shall  look  upon  60 

When  I  am  sleeping  with  my  ancestors. 
For  when  his  headstrong  riot  hath  no  curb, 
When  rage  and  hot  blood  are  his  counsellors, 
When  means  and  lavish  manners  meet  together, 
O,  with  what  wings  shall  his  affections  fly  65 

Towards  fronting  peril  and  opposed  decay  ! 

War.   My  gracious  lord,  you  look  beyond  him  quite. 
The  Prince  but  studies  his  companions 
Like  a  strange  tongue,  wherein,  to  gain  the  language, 
'Tis  needful  that  the  most  immodest  word  70 

Be  look'd  upon  and  learn'd  ;  which  once  attain'd, 
Your  Highness  knows,  comes  to  no  further  use 


io8        i£mrs  tlje  jfourt^  JDart  3131   Act  iv 

But  to  be  known  and  hated.     So,  like  gross  terms, 
I/   The  Prince  will  in  the  perfectness  of  time 

Cast  off  his  followers  ;  and  their  memory  75 

Shall  as  a  pattern  or  a  measure  live,    . 
By  which  his  Grace  must  mete  the  lives  of  others, 
Turning  past  evils  to  advantages. 
King.   'Tis  seldom  when  the  bee  doth  leave  her  comb 
In  the  dead  carrion. 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

Who's  here  ?     Westmoreland  ? 

West.   Health  to  my  sovereign,  and  new  happiness     81 
Added  to  that  that  I  am  to  deliver  ! 
Prince  John  your  son  doth  kiss  your  Grace's  hand. 
Mowbray,  the  Bishop  Scroop,  Hastings  and  all 
Are  brought  to  the  correction  of  your  law.  85 

There  is  not  now  a  rebel's  sword  unsheath'd, 
But  Peace  puts  forth  her  olive  everywhere. 
The  manner  how  this  action  hath  been  borne 
Here  at  more  leisure  may  your  Highness  read, 
With  every  course  in  his  particular.  90 

King.   O  Westmoreland,  thou  art  a  summer  bird, 
Which  ever  in  the  haunch  of  winter  sings 
The  lifting  up  of  day. 

Enter  Harcourt. 

Look,  here's  more  news. 
Har.   From  enemies  heaven  keep  your  Majesty ; 


sc.  iv    jjenn?  tlje  jfourtlj,  JjOatt  3131        109 

And,  when  they  stand  against  you,  may  they  fall 
•As  those  ^that  I  am  come  to  tell  you  of  !  96 

The  Earl  Northumberland  and  the  Lord  Bardolph, 
With  a  great  power  of  English  and  of  Scots, 
Are  by  the  sheriff  of  Yorkshire  overthrown. 
The  manner  and  true  order  of  the  fight  100 

This  packet,  please  it  you,  contains  at  large. 

King.   And  wherefore  should  these  good  news  make 

me  sick  ? 

Will  Fortune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
But  write  her  fair  words  still  in  foulest  letters  ? 
She  either  gives  a  stomach  and  no  food  ;  105 

Such  are  the  poor,  in  health  ;  or  else  a  feast 
And  takes  away  the  stomach  ;   such  are  the  rich, 
That  have  abundance  and  enjoy  it  not. 
I  should  rejoice  now  at  this  happy  news ; 
And  now  my  sight  fails,  and  my  brain  is  giddy. 
O  me  !  come  near  me  ;  now  I  am  much  ill.        Ill 

Glou.   Comfort,  your  Majesty  ! 

Clar.  O  my  royal  father  ! 

West.   My  sovereign  lord,  cheer  up  yourself,  look  up. 

War.   Be  patient,  Princes ;   you  do  know,  these  fits 
Are  with  his  Highness  very  ordinary.  115 

Stand  from  him,  give  him  air.    He'll  straight  be  well. 

Clar.   No,  no,  he  cannot  long  hold  out  these  pangs. 
The  incessant  care  and  labour  of  his  mind 
Hath  wrought  the  mure  that  should  confine  it  in 
So  thin  that  life  looks  through  [and  will  break  out]. 


no        tyenri?  tlje  jfourtf),  part  301  Activ 


Glou.   The  people  fear  me  ;  for  they  do  observe        121 

Unfather'd  heirs  and  loathly  births  of  nature. 

The  seasons  change  their  manners,  as  the  year 

Had  found  some  months  asleep  and  leaped  them 

over. 
Clar.   The  river  hath  thrice  flow'd,  no  ebb  between  ; 

And  the  old  folk,  time's  doting  chronicles,  126 

Say  it  did  so  a  little  time  before 

That  our  great-grandsire,  Edward,  sick'd  and  died. 
Wor.    Speak  lower,  Princes,  for  the  King  recovers. 
Glou.   This  apoplexy  will  certain  be  his  end.  130 

King.    I  pray  you,  take  me  up,  and  bear  me  hence 

Into  some  other  chamber.     [Softly,  pray.] 

[Exeunt.     The  King  is  borne  out.] 

SCENE  V 

[Another  chamber. 

The  King  lying  on  a   bed:    Clarence,   Gloucester,  War- 
wick, and  others  in  attendance] 

King.   Let  there  be  no  noise  made,  my  gentle  friends  ; 
Unless  some  dull  and  favourable  hand 
Will  whisper  music  to  my  weary  spirit. 

Wor.   Call  for  the  music  in  the  other  room. 

King.   Set  me  the  crown  upon  my  pillow  here.  5 

Clar.   His  eye  is  hollow,  and  he  changes  much. 

War.   Less  noise,  less  noise  ! 


sc.  v     tymvt>  fyt  jfourtk  JJDart  3131        m 

Enter  Prince  Henry. 

Prince.  Who  saw  the  Duke  of  Clarence  ? 

Clar.   I  am  here,  brother,  full  of  heaviness. 
Prince.   How    now !     ram    within    doors,    and    none 
abroad ! 

How  doth  the  King  ?  10 

Glou.   Exceeding  ill. 
Prince.  Heard  he  the  good  news  yet  ? 

Tell  it  him. 

Glou.   He  alter'd  much  upon  the  hearing  it. 
Prince.   If  he  be  sick  with  joy,  he'll  recover  without 

physic.  15 

War.   Not  so  much  noise,  my  lords.     Sweet  Prince, 
speak  low ; 

The  King,  your  father,  is  dispos'd  to  sleep. 
Clar.   Let  us  withdraw  into  the  other  room. 
War.   WilPt  please  your  Grace  to  go  along  with  us  ? 
Prince.  No ;  I  will  sit  and  watch  here  by  the  King.  20 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  Prince.] 

Why  doth  the  crown  lie  there  upon  his  pillow, 

Being  so  troublesome  a  bedfellow  ? 

O  polish'd  perturbation  !  golden  care  ! 

That  keep'st  the  ports  of  slumber  open  wide 

To  many  a  watchful  night !     Sleep  with  it  now  ! 

Yet  not  so  sound  and  half  so  deeply  sweet  26 

As  he  whose  brow  with  homely  biggen  bound 

Snores  out  the  watch  of  night.     O  majesty  ! 

<  fl  \ " 


H2        tymry  tty  Jfourtt),  ^)art  3131   Act  iv 

When  thou  dost  pinch  thy  bearer,  thou  dost  sit 
Like  a  rich  armour  worn  in  heat  of  day,  30 

That  scald'st  with  safety.     By  his  gates  of  breath 
There  lies  a  downy  feather  which  stirs  not. 
Did  he  suspire,  that  light  and  weightless  down 
Perforce    must    move.     My    gracious    lord !     my 

father  ! 

This  sleep  is  sound  indeed  ;  this  is  a  sleep  35 

That  from  this  golden  rigol  hath  divorc'd 
So  many  English  kings.     Thy  due  from  me 
Is  tears  and  heavy  sorrows  of  the  blood, 
Which  nature,  love,  and  filial  tenderness 
Shall,  O  dear  father,  pay  thee  plenteously.  40 

My  due  from  thee  is  this  imperial  crown, 
Which,  as  immediate  from  thy  place  and  blood, 
Derives  itself  to  me.     [Puts  on  the  crown.]     Lo, 

where  it  sits, 
Which   God   shall   guard ;    and  put   the  world's 

whole  strength 

Into  one  giant  arm,  it  shall  not  force  45 

This  lineal  honour  from  me.     This  from  thee 
Will  I  to  mine  leave,  as  'tis  left  to  me.  Exit. 

King.   Warwick  !     Gloucester  !     Clarence  ! 

Re-enter  Warwick,  Gloucester,  Clarence  [and  the  rest]. 

Clar.   Doth  the  King  call  ? 

War.   What  would  your  Majesty?     [How  fares  your 
Grace?]  50 


sc.  v     sjenn?  flje  jfourt^  part  3131        113 


King.   Why  did  you  leave  me  here  alone,  my  lords  ? 
Clar.   We  lefjLthe  Prince  my  brother  here,  my  liege, 

Who  undertook  to  sit  and  watch  by  you. 
King.   The  Prince  of  Wales  !    Where  is  he  ?    Let  me 

see  him. 

He  is  not  here.  55 

War.   This  door  is  open  ;  he  is  gone  this  way. 
Glou.   He  came  not  through  the  chamber  where  we 

stay'd. 
King.   Where  is  the  crown  ?     Who  took  it  from  my 

pillow  ? 

War.   When  we  withdrew,  my  liege,  we  left  it  here. 
King.   The  Prince  hath  ta'en  it  hence.     Go,  seek  him 
out.  60 

Is  he  so  hasty  that  he  doth  suppose 
My  sleep  my  death  ? 

Find  him,  my  Lord  of  Warwick  ;  chide  him  hither. 

[Exit  Warwick.] 

This  part  of  his  conjoins  with  my  disease, 
And  helps  to  end  me.     See,  sons,  what  things  you 
are  !  65 

How  quickly  nature  falls  into  revolt 
When  gold  becomes  her  object  ! 
For  this  the  foolish  over-careful  fathers 
Have  broke  their  sleep  with  thoughts,  their  brains 

with  care, 

Their  bones  with  industry  ;  70 

For  this  they  have  engrossed  and  pil'd  up 
I 


H4        tytntv  tl)e  jFomtl),  ]|Dart  3131   Act  iv 


The  cank'red  heaps  of  strange-achieved  gold  ; 
For  this  they  have  been  thoughtful  to  invest 
Their  sons  with  arts  and  martial  exercises  ; 
When,  like  the  bee,  tolling  from  every  flower       75 
[The  virtuous  sweets], 
Our  thighs  pack'd  with  wax,   our  mouths  with 

honey, 

We  bring  it  to  the  hive,  and,  like  the  bees, 
Are  murd'red  for  our  pains.     This  bitter  taste 
Yields  his  engrossments  to  the  ending  father.       80 

Re-enter  Warwick. 

Now,  where  is  he  that  will  not  stay  so  long 
Till  his  friend  sickness  hath  determin'd  me  ? 

War.   My  lord,  I  found  the  Prince  in  the  next  room, 
Washing  with  kindly  tears  his  gentle  cheeks, 
With  such  a  deep  demeanour  in  great  sorrow     ,  85 
That  Tyranny,  which  never  quaffd  but  blood, 
Would,  by  beholding  him,  have  wash'd  his  knife 
With  gentle  eye-drops.     He  is  coming  hither. 

King.   But  wherefore  did  he  take  away  the  crown  ? 

Re-enter  Prince  Harry. 

Lo,  where  he  comes.      Come  hither  to  me,  Harry. 

Depart  the  chamber,  leave  us  here  alone.  91 

Exeunt  [Warwick  and  the  rest]. 
Prince.    I  never  thought  to  hear  you  speak  again. 
King.   Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that  thought. 


sc.  v     tyntry  tlje  jfourtl),  part  3131        us 

I  stay  too  long  by  thee,  I  weary  thee. 

Dost  thou  so  hunger  for  mine  empty  chair  95 

That    thou    wilt    needs    invest    thee    with    mine 

honours 

Before  thy  hour  be  ripe  ?     O  foolish  youth  ! 
Thou  seek'st  the  greatness  that  will  overwhelm 

thee. 

Stay  but  a  little ;  for  my  cloud  of  dignity 
Is  held  from  falling  with  so  weak  a  wind  100 

That  it  will  quickly  drop.     My  day  is  dim. 
Thou  hast  stolen  that  which  after  some  few  hours 
Were  thine  without  offence  ;  and  at  my  death 
Thou  hast  seal'd  up  my  expectation. 
Thy  life  did  manifest  thou  lov'dst  me  not,          105 
And  thou  wilt  have  me  die  assur'd  of  it. 
Thou  hid'st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts, 
Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart, 
To  stab  at  half  an  hour  of  my  life. 
What !  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 
Then  get  thee  gone  and  dig  my  grave  thyself,    111 
And  bid  the  merry  bells  ring  to  thine  ear 
That  thou  art  crowned,  not  that  I  am  dead. 
Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse 
Be  drops  of  balm  to  sanctify  thy  head  ;  lla 

Only  compound  me  with  forgotten  dust ; 
Give  that  which  gave  thee  life  unto  the  worms. 
Pluck  down  my  officers,  break  my  decrees  ; 
For  now  a  time  is  come  to  mock  at  form. 


n6        Sjntri?  ttje  Jfourrt),  part  3131  Act  iv 

I    Harry  the  Fifth  is  crown'd  !     Up,  vanity  !          120 
Down,  royal  state !    All  you  sage  counsellors,  hence ! 
And  to  the  English  court  assemble  now, 
From  every  region,  apes  of  idleness  ! 
Now,  neighbour  confines,  purge  you  of  your  scum  ! 
Have  you  a  ruffian  that  will  swear,  drink,  dance, 
Revel  the  night,  rob,  murder,  and  commit          126 
The  oldest  sins  the  newest  kind  of  ways  ? 
Be  happy,  he  will  trouble  you  no  more. 
England  shall  double  gild  his  treble  guilt, 
England  shall  give  him  office,  honour,  might ;    130 
For  the  fifth  Harry  from  curb'd  license  plucks 
The  muzzle  of  restraint,  and  the  wild  dog 
Shall  flesh  his  tooth  on  every  innocent.    \ 

0  my  poor  kingdom,  sick  with  civil  blows  ! 
When  that  my  care  could  not  withhold  thy  riots, 
What  wilt  thou  do  when  riot  is  thy  care  ?  136 
O,  thou  wilt  be  a  wilderness  again, 

Peopled  with  wolves,  thy  old  inhabitants  ! 
Prince.   O,  pardon  me,  my  liege  !  but  for  my  tears, 
The  moist  impediments  unto  my  speech,  140 

1  had  forestalled  this  dear  and  deep  rebuke 
Ere  you  with  grief  had  spoke  and  I  had  heard 
The  course  of  it  so  far.     There  is  your  crown  ; 
And  He  that  wears  the  crown  immortally 

Long  guard  it  yours  !     If  I  affect  it  more  145 

Than  as  your  honour  and  as  your  renown, 

Let  me  no  more  from  this  obedience  rise,    [Kneels.] 


sc.  v     tymtv  tty  jFourtlj,  ^art  3131 


Which  my  most  inward,  true,  and  duteous  spirit 
Teacheth,  this  prostrate  and  exterior  bending. 
God  witness  with  me,  when  I  here  came  in,        150 
And    found    no    course    of    breath    within    your 

Majesty, 

How  cold  it  struck  my  heart  !     If  I  do  feign, 
O,  let  me  in  my  present  wildness  die 
And  never  live  to  show  the  incredulous  world 
The  noble  change  that  I  have  purposed  !  155 

Coming  to  look  on  you,  thinking  you  dead, 
And  dead  almost,  my  liege,  to  think  you  were, 
I  spake  unto  this  crown  as  having  sense, 
And  thus  upbraided  it:    "The  care  on  thee  de- 

pending 

Hath  fed  upon  the  body  of  my  father  ;  160 

Therefore,  thou  best  of  gold  art  worst  of  gold. 
Other,  less  fine  in  carat,  is  more  precious, 
Preserving  life  in  medicine  potable  ; 
But   thou,    most   fine,  most   honour'd,  most    re- 

nown'd, 
Hast  eat  thy  bearer  up."     Thus,  my  most  royal 

liege,       1  165 

Accusing  it,  I  put  it  on  my  head, 
To  try  with  it,  as  with  an  enemy 
That  had  before  my  face  murd'red  my  father, 
The  quarrel  of  a  true  inheritor. 
But  if  it  did  infect  my  blood  with  joy,  170 

Or  swell  my  thoughts  to  any  strain  of  pride  ; 


us        H?enr£  tty  jfourtlj,  part  3131   Act  iv 

If  any  rebel  or  vain  spirit  of  mine 
Did  with  the  least  affection  of  a  welcome 
Give  entertainment  to  the  might  of  it, 
Let  God  for  ever  keep  it  from  my  head  175 

And  make  me  as  the  poorest  vassal  is 
That  doth  with  awe  and  terror  kneel  to  it ! 
King.   [O  my  son,] 

God  put  it  in  thy  mind  to  take  it  hence, 
That  thou  mightst  win  the  more  thy  father's  love, 
Pleading  so  wisely  in  excuse  of  it !  181 

Come  hither,  Harry,  sit  thou  by  my  bed  ; 
And  hear,  I  think,  the  very  latest  counsel 
f   That  ever  I  shall  breathe.     God  knows,  my  son, 
By  what  by-paths  and  indirect  crook'd  ways      185 

I  met  this  crown  ;   and  I  myself  know  well 

How  troublesome  it  sat  upon  my  head. 

To  thee  it  shall  descend  with  better  quiet, 

Better  opinion,  better  confirmation  ; 

For  all  the  soil  of  the  achievement  goes  190 

With  me  into  the  earth.     It  seem'd  in  me 

But  as  an  honour  snatch'd  with  boist'rous  hand, 

And  I  had  many  living  to  upbraid 

My  gain  of  it  by  their  assistances  ; 

Which  daily  grew  to  quarrel  and  to  bloodshed,  195 

Wounding  supposed  peace.     All  these  bold  fears 

Thou  see'st  with  peril  I  have  answered  ; 

For  all  my  reign  hath  been  but  as  a  scene 

Acting  that  argument ;  and  now  my  death 


sc.  v     j^enr^  ttje  jfourtl),  part  3|3i        119 


J\ 


Changes   the  mode  ;    for  what  in  me  was  pur- 

chas^dT^  200 

Falls  upon  thee  in  a  more  fairer  sort  ; 
So  thou  the  garland  wear'st  successively. 
Yet,  though  thou  stand'st  more  sure  than  I  could 

do, 

Thou  art  not  firm  enough,  since  griefs  are  green  ; 
And  all  [my]  friends,  which  thou  must  make  thy 

friends,  205 

Have  but  their  stings  and  teeth  newly  ta'en  out  ; 
By  whose  fell  working  I  was  first  ad  vane*  d 
And  by  whose  power  I  well  might  lodge  a  fear 
To  be  again  displac'd  ;  which  to  avoid, 
I  cut  them  off  ;  and  had  a  purpose  now  210 

To  lead  out  many  to  the  Holy  Land, 
Lest  rest  and  lying  still  might  make  them  look 
Too  near  unto  my  state.     Therefore,  my  Harry, 
Be  it  thy  course  to  busy  giddy  minds 
With  foreign  quarrels,   that  action,  hence  borne 

out,  215 

May  waste  the  memory  of  the  former  days. 
More  would  I,  but  my  lungs  are  wasted  so 
That  strength  of  speech  is  utterly  deni'd  me. 
How  I  came  by  the  crown,  O  God  forgive  ; 
,  And  grant  it  may  with  thee  in  true  peace  live  !  220 
Prince.    [My  gracious  liege,] 

You  won  it,  wore  it,  kept  it,  gave  it  me  ; 
Then  plain  and  right  must  my  possession  be, 


120        Sjenry  tije  jfourtl},  ]]3arc  3131  Act  iv 

Which  I  with  more  than  with  a  common  pain 
'Gainst  all  the  world  will  rightfully  maintain.     225 

Enter  Lord  John  of  Lancaster  and  Warwick. 

King.   Look,  look,  here  comes  my  John  of  Lancaster. 
Lan.   Health,    peace,    and    happiness    to    my    royal 

father ! 

King.   Thou   bring'st   me   happiness   and   peace,    son 
John ; 

But  health,  alack,  with  youthful  wings  is  flown 

From  this  bare  wither'd  trunk.     Upon  thy  sight 

My  worldly  business  makes  a  period.  231 

Where  is  my  Lord  of  Warwick  ? 

Prince.  My  Lord  of  Warwick  ! 

King.   Doth  any  name  particular  belong 

Unto  the  lodging  where  I  first  did  swoon  ? 
War.    'Tis  calFd  Jerusalem,  my  noble  lord.  235 

King.   Laud  be  to   God !    even  there  my  life  must 
end. 

It  hath  been  prophesi'd  to  me  many  years, 

I  should  not  die  but  in  Jerusalem ; 

Which  vainly  I  suppos'd  the  Holy  Land. 

But  bear  me  to  that  chamber  ;  there  I'll  lie ;     240 

In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die.  Exeunt. 


ACT   FIFTH 

SCENE  I 

[Gloucestershire.     Shallow's  house.] 
Enter  Shallow,  Falstaff,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Shal.   By  cock  and  pie,  sir,  you  shall  not  away 
to-night.     What,  Davy,  I  say  ! 

Fal.   You  must  excuse  me,  Master  Robert  Shal- 
low. 

Shal.   I  will  not  excuse  you ;    you  shall  not  be      5 
excus'd ;  excuses     shall     not    be    admitted ; 
there  is  no  excuse  shall  serve ;  you  shall  not 
be  excus'd.     Why,  Davy  ! 

[Enter  Davy.] 
Davy.   Here,  sir. 
Shal.   Davy,    Davy,    Davy,    Davy,   let    me    see,     10 

Davy  ;   let  me  see,  Davy  ;   let  me  see.     Yea, 

marry,  William  cook,  bid  him  come  hither. 

Sir  John,  you  shall  not  be  excus'd. 
Davy.   Marry,   sir,   thus ;    those  precepts   cannot 

be  serv'd ;    and,  again,  sir,  shall  we  sow  the     15 

headland  with  wheat  ? 


122        tyenn?  t|ie  jfourtt),  ^part  313    Actv 


With  red  wheat,  Davy.     But  for  William 

cook  :  are  there  no  young  pigeons  ? 
Davy.   Yes,   sir.     Here   is   now   the   smith's  note 

for  shoeing  and  plough-irons.  20 

Shal.   Let  it  be  cast  and  paid.     Sir  John,  you  shall 

not  be  excus'd. 
Davy.   Now,  sir,  a  new  link  to  the  bucket  must 

needs  be  had  ;  and,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  stop 

any  of  William's  wages,   about  the  sack    he     25 

lost  [the  other  day]  at  Hinckley  fair  ? 
Shal.   'A  shall  answer  it.     Some  pigeons,  Davy, 

a  couple  of  short-legg'd  hens,  a  joint  of  mutton, 

and   any   pretty    little    tiny   kickshaws,    tell 

William  cook.  30 

Davy.   Doth    the  man    of    war    stay    all    night, 

sir? 
Shal.   Yea,  Davy  ;    I  will  use  him  well.     A  friend 

i'  the  court  is  better  than  a  penny  in  purse. 

Use  his  men  well,  Davy  ;   for  they  are  arrant     35 

knaves,  and  will  backbite. 
Davy.   No  worse  than  they  are  backbitten,  sir  ; 

for  they  have  marvellous  foul  linen. 
Shal.   Well  conceited,  Davy.    About  thy  business, 

Davy.  40 

Davy.   I  beseech  you,  sir,  to  countenance  William 

Visor  of  Woncot  against  Clement  Perkes  o' 

the  hill. 
Shal.   There  is  many  complaints,  Davy,  against 


sc.  i      tyenrg  tlje  jfourtl),  part  5131        123 

that  Visor.     That  Visor  is  an  arrant  knave,     46 
on  my  knowledge. 

Davy.  I  grant  your  worship  that  he  is  a  knave, 
sir ;  but  yet,  God  forbid,  sir,  but  a  knave 
should  have  some  countenance  at  his  friend's 
request.  An  honest  man,  sir,  is  able  to  speak  50 
for  himself,  when  a  knave  is  not.  I  have 
serv'd  your  worship  truly,  sir,  this  eight 
years  ;  and  if  I  cannot  once  or  twice  in  a  quar- 
ter bear  out  a  knave  against  an  honest  man,  I 
have  [but  a  very]  little  credit  with  your  wor-  55 
ship.  The  knave  is  mine  honest  friend,  sir ; 
therefore,  I  beseech  you,  let  him  be  counte- 
nanc'd. 

Shal.   Go  to  ;  I  say  he  shall  have  no  wrong.     Look 

about,  Davy.     [Exit  Davy.]     Where  are  you,     60 
Sir  John  ?     Come,  come,  come,  off  with  your 
boots.     Give  me  your  hand,  Master  Bardolph. 

Bard.    I  am  glad  to  see  your  worship. 

Shal.    I  thank  thee  with  [all]  my  heart,  kind  Master 

Bardoiph :    and  welcome,  my  tall    fellow  [to     65 
the  Page].     Come,  Sir  John. 

Fal.  I'll  follow  you,  good  Master  Robert  Shallow. 
[Exit  Shallow.]  Bardolph,  look  to  our  horses. 
[Exeunt  Bardolph  and  Page.]  If  I  were  saw'd 
into  quantities,  I  should  make  four  dozen  of  70 
such  bearded  hermits'  staves  as  Master 
Shallow.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  see  the 


124        «?enn?  tlje  jfourtij,  ]part  3131    Act  v 

semblable  coherence  of  his  men's  spirits  and 
his.  They,  by  observing  [of]  him,  do  bear 
themselves  like  foolish  justices  ;  he,  by  con-  75 
versing  with  them,  is  turn'd  into  a  justice- 
like  serving-man.  Their  spirits  are  so  married 
in  conjunction  with  the  participation  of  society 
that  they  flock  together  in  consent,  like  so 
many  wild-geese.  If  I  had  a  suit  to  Master 
Shallow,  I  would  humour  his  men  with  the  80 
imputation  of  being  near  their  master ;  if  to 
his  men,  I  would  curry  with  Master  Shallow 
that  no  man  could  better  command  his  ser- 
vants. It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing 
or  ignorant  carriage  is  caught,  as  men  take  85 
diseases,  one  of  another ;  therefore  let  men 
take  heed  of  their  company.  I  will  devise 
matter  enough  out  of  this  Shallow  to  keep 
Prince  Harry  in  continual  laughter  the  wear- 
ing out  of  six  fashions,  which  is  four  terms,  or 
two  actions,  and  'a  shall  laugh  without  inter-  90 
vallums.  O,  it  is  much  that  a  lie  with  a 
slight  oath  and  a  jest  with  a  sad  brow  will  do 
with  a  fellow  that  never  had  the  ache. in  his 
shoulders  !  O,  you  shall  see  him  laugh  till  his 
face  be  like  a  wet  cloak  ill  laid  up.  95 

Shal.  [Within.]   Sir  John  ! 

Fal.   I  come,  Master  Shallow ;    I  come,  Master 

Shallow.  Exit. 


sc.  ii     tymtv  t\)t  jFcurtl),  JjDatt  3131        125 


SCENE  II 

[Westminster.     The  palace.] 
Enter  Warwick  and  the  Lard  Chief  Justice  [meeting]. 

War.   How   now,   my   Lord    Chief    Justice  !    whither 
away? 

Ch.  Just.   How  doth  the  King  ? 

War.   Exceeding  well  ;  his  cares  are  now  all  ended. 

Ch.  Just.    I  hope,  not  dead. 

War.  He's  walk'd  the  way  of  nature  ; 

And  to  our  purposes  he  lives  no  more.  5 

Ch.  Just.    I  would  his  Majesty  had  calFd  me  with  him. 
The  service  that  I  truly  did  his  life 
Hath  left  me  open  to  all  injuries. 

War.    Indeed  I  think  the  young  King  loves  you  not. 

Ch.  Just.    I  know  he  doth  not,  and  do  arm  myself     10 
To  welcome  the  condition  of  the  time, 
Which  cannot  look  more  hideously  upon  me 
Than  I  have  drawn  it  in  my  fantasy. 

Enter  Lancaster,  Clarence,  Gloucester  [Westmoreland,  and 
others]. 

War.   Here  come  the  heavy  issue  of  dead  Harry  : 

O  that  the  living  Harry  had  the  temper  15 

Of  him,  the  worst  of  these  three  gentlemen  ! 
How  many  nobles  then  should  hold  their  places, 
That  must  strike  sail  to  spirits  of  vile  sort  ! 


126        tynrry  rtje  Jfourrij,  part  3131    Act  v 

Ch.  Just.   O  God,  I  fear  all  will  be  over-turn'd  ! 

Lan.   Good  morrow,  cousin  Warwick,  good  morrow.     20 

Glou.    \  „      , 

>  Good  morrow,  cousin. 


Clar. 

Lan.   We  meet  like  men  that  had  forgot  to  speak. 

War.   We  do  remember  ;  but  our  argument 

Is  all  too  heavy  to  admit  much  talk. 
Lan.   Well,  peace  be  with  him  that  hath  made  us  heavy  ! 
Ch.  Just.   Peace  be  with  us,  lest  we  be  heavier  !         26 
Glou.   O,  good  my  lord,  you  have  lost  a  friend  indeed ; 

And  I  dare  swear  you  borrow  not  that  face 

Of  seeming  sorrow  ;  it  is  sure  your  own. 
Lan.   Though  no  man  be  assur'd  what  grace  to  find,  30 

You  stand  in  coldest  expectation. 

I  am  the  sorrier ;  would  'twere  otherwise  ! 
Clar.   Well,  you  must  now  speak  Sir  John  Falstaff  fair ; 

Which  swims  against  your  stream  of  quality. 
Ch.  Just.   Sweet  princes,  what  I  did,  I  did  in  honour,  35 

Led  by  the  impartial  conduct  of  my  soul ; 

And  never  shall  you  see  that  I  will  beg 

A  ragged  and  forestalled  remission. 

If  truth  and  upright  innocency  fail  me, 

I'll  to  the  King  my  master  that  is  dead,  40 

And  tell  him  who  hath  sent  me  after  him. 
War.   Here  comes  the  Prince. 

Enter  King  Henry  the  Fifth  [attended]. 
Ch.  Just.   Good  morrow  ;  and  God  save  your  Majesty  ! 


Sc.  ii     l£enn?  tfte  Jfourtti,  JjOart  3131        127 

King.  This  new  and  gorgeous  garment,  majesty, 

Sits  not^reasy  on  me  as  you  think.  45 

Brothers,    you    mix    your     sadness    with    some 

fear. 

This  is  the  English,  not  the  Turkish  court ; 
Not  Amurath  an  Amurath  succeeds, 
But  Harry  Harry.     Yet  be  sad,  good  brothers, 
For,  by  my  faith,  it  very  well  becomes  you.        50 
Sorrow  so  royally  in  you  appears 
That  I  will  deeply  put  the  fashion  on 
And  wear  it  in  my  heart.     Why  then,  be  sad ; 
J3ut  entertain  no  more  of  it,  good  brothers, 
Than  a  joint  burden  laid  upon  us  all.  55 

For  me,  by  heaven,  I  bid  you  be  assur'd, 
I'll  be  your  father  and  your  brother  too. 
Let  me  but  bear  your  love,  I'll  bear  your  cares. 
Yet  weep  that  Harry's  dead,  and  so  will  I ; 
But  Harry  lives,  that  shall  convert  those  tears    60 
By  number  into  hours  of  happiness. 

Princes.   We  hope  no  other  from  your  Majesty. 

King.   You  all  look  strangely  on  me,  and  you  most. 
You  are,  I  think,  assur'd  I  love  you  not. 

Ch.  Just.    I  am  assur'd,  if  I  be  measur'd  rightly,         65 
Your  Majesty  hath  no  just  cause  to  hate  me. 

King.   No? 

How  might  a  prince  of  my  great  hopes  forget 

So  great  indignities  you  laid  upon  me  ? 

What !  rate,  rebuke,  and  roughly  send  to  prison  70 


128        s?mn?  fyt  jFourti),  part  3131    Act  v 

The  immediate  heir  of  England  !  Was  this  easy  ? 
May  this  be  wash'd  in  Lethe,  and  forgotten  ? 
Ch.  Just.   I  then  did  use  the  person  of  your  father ; 
The  image  of  his  power  lay  then  in  me ; 
And,  in  the  administration  of  his  law,  75 

Whiles  I  was  busy  for  the  commonwealth, 
Your  Highness  pleased  to  forget  my  place, 
The  majesty  and  power  of  law  and  justice, 
The  image  of  the  King  whom  I  presented, 
And  struck  me  in  my  very  seat  of  judgement ;    80 
Whereon,  as  an  offender  to  your  father, 
I  gave  bold  way  to  my  authority 
And  did  commit  you.     If  the  deed  were  ill, 
Be  you  contented,  wearing  now  the  garland, 
To  have  a  son  set  your  decrees  at  nought  ?         85 
To  pluck  down  justice  from  your  awful  bench  ? 
To  trip  the  course  of  law  and  blunt  the  sword 
That  guards  the  peace  and  safety  of  your  person  ? 
Nay,  more,  to  spurn  at  your  most  royal  image 
And  mock  your  workings  in  a  second  body  ?         90 
Question  your  royal  thoughts,  make  the  case  yours  : 
Be  now  the  father  and  propose  a  son, 
Hear  your  own  dignity  so  much  profan'd, 
See  your  most  dreadful  laws  so  loosely  slighted, 
Behold  yourself  so  by  a  son  disdained ;  95 

And  then  imagine  me  taking  your  part 
And  in  your  power  soft  silencing  your  son. 
After  this  cold  considerance,  sentence  me ; 


Sc.  ii     8?enri?  tlje  jfourtl),  ||Dart  3131        129 

And,  as  you  are  a  king,  speak  in  your  state 
What  J -have  done  that  misbecame  my  place,    100 
My  person,  or  my  liege's  sovereignty. 
King.   You  are  right,  Justice,  and  you  weigh  this  well, 
Therefore  still  bear  the  balance  and  the  sword ; 
And  I  do  wish  your  honours  may  increase, 
Till  you  do  live  to  see  a  son  of  mine  105 

Offend  you  and  obey  you,  as  I  did. 
So  shall  I  live  to  speak  my  father's  words  : 
"Happy  am  I,  that  have  a  man  so  bold, 
That  dares  do  justice  on  my  proper  son ; 
And  not  less  happy,  having  such  a  son  110 

That  would  deliver  up  his  greatness  so 
Into  the  hands  of  justice."     You  did  commit  me ; 
For  which,  I  do  commit  into  your  hand 
The  unstained  sword  that  you  have  us'd  to  bear ; 
With  this  remembrance,  that  you  use  the  same  115 
With  the  like  bold,  just,  and  impartial  spirit 
As  you  have  done  'gainst  me.     There  is  my  hand. 
You  shall  be  as  a  father  to  my  youth, 
My  voice  shall  sound  as  you  do  prompt  mine  ear, 
And  I  will  stoop  and  humble  my  intents  120 

To  your  well-practis'd  wise  directions. 
And,  princes  all,  believe  me,  I  beseech  you, 
My  father  is  gone  wild  into  his  grave, 
For  in  his  tomb  lie  my  affections ; 
And  with  his  spirit  sadly  I  survive,  125 

To  mock  the  expectation  of  the  world, 
K 


130        tyenrs  tlje  jfourrtj,  part  3131    Actv 

To  frustrate  prophecies,  and  to  raze  out 
Rotten  opinion,  who  hath  writ  me  down 
After  my  seeming.     The  tide  of  blood  in  me 
Hath  proudly  flow'd  in  vanity  till  now  :  180 

Now  doth  it  turn  and  ebb  back  to  the  sea, 
Where  it  shall  mingle  with  the  state  of  floods 
And  flow  henceforth  in  formal  majesty. 
Now  call  we  our  high  court  of  parliament ; 
And  let  us  choose  such  limbs  of  noble  counsel,  135 
That  the  great  body  of  our  state  may  go 
In  equal  rank  with  the  best  govern'd  nation ; 
That  war,  or  peace,  or  both  at  once,  may  be 
As  things  acquainted  and  familiar  to  us ; 
In  which  you,  father,  shall  have  foremost  hand. 
Our  coronation  done,  we  will  accite,  1*-^  ^^      141 
As  I  before  rememb'red,  all  our  state ; 
And,  God  consigning  to  my  good  intents, 
No  prince  nor  peer  shall  have  just  cause  to  say, 
God  shorten  Harry's  happy  life  one  day  !  145 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  III 

[Gloucestershire.     Shallow's  orchard.] 

Enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Silence,  Davy,  Bardolph,  and  the 
Page. 

Shal.   Nay,  you  shall  see  my  orchard,  where,  in  an 
arbour,  we  will  eat  a  last  year's  pippin  of  mine 


Sc.  HI    ^enrs  rtje  jfourtl),  JDart  3(31        131 


own  graffing,  with  a  dish  of  caraways,  and  so 

forth,  —  come,  cousin  Silence,  —  and  then  to 

bed.  5 

Fal.   'Fore  God,  you  have  here  a  goodly  dwelling 

and  a  rich. 
Shal.   Barren,  barren,  barren  ;  beggars  all,  beggars 

all,  Sir  John  :  marry,  good  air.     Spread,  Davy  ; 

spread,  Davy.     Well  said,  Davy.  10 

Fal.   This  Davy  serves  you  for  good  uses  ;    he  is 

your  serving-man  and  your  husband. 
Shal.   A  good  varlet,  a  good  varlet,  a  very  good  var- 

let,  Sir  John.     By  the  mass,  I  have  drunk  too 

much  sack  at  supper.     A  good  varlet.     Now     15 

sit  down,  now  sit  down.     Come,  cousin. 
Sil.   Ah,  sirrah  !  quoth-a,  we  shall 

[Singing.] 

"Do  nothing  but  eat,  and  make  good  cheer, 

And  praise  God  for  the  merry  year, 

When  flesh  is  cheap  and  females  dear,  20 

And  lusty  lads  roam  here  and  there 
So  merrily, 

And  ever  among  so  merrily." 
Fal.   There's  a  merry  heart  !  Good  Master  Silence, 

I'll  give  you  a  health  for  that  anon.  25 

ShaL   Give      Master       Bardolph       some      wine, 

Davy. 
Davy.   Sweet  sir,  sit  ;   I'll  be  with  you  anon  ;  most 

sweet  sir,  sit.     Master  page,  good  master  page, 


132        n?ntr£  ttje  jfouttl),  part  3131    Actv 

sit.      Preface !      What    you    want    in    meat,     30 
we'll  have  in  drink  ;  but  you  must  bear.     The 
heart's  all.  [Exit.] 

Shal.   Be  merry,  Master  Bardolph  ;  and,  my  little 

soldier  there,  be  merry. 

Sil.  [Singing.]  "Be  merry,  be  merry,  my  wife  has  all ; 
For  women  are  shrews,  both  short  and  tall.  36 
'Tis  merry  in  hall  when  beards  wag  all, 

And  welcome  merry  Shrove-tide. 
Be  merry,  be  merry." 
Fal.   I  did  not  think  Master  Silence  had  been  a  man     40 

of  this  mettle. 

Sil.    Who  ?  I  ?  I  have  been  merry  twice  and  once 
ere  now. 

Re-enter  Davy. 

Davy.   There's  a  dish  of  leather-coats  for  you. 

[To  Bardolph.] 

Shal.   Davy!  45 

Davy.   Your  worship  !  I'll  be  with  you  straight.     A 

cup  of  wine,  sir  ? 

Sil.  [Singing.]    "A  cup  of  wine  that's  brisk  and  fine, 
And  drink  unto  the  leman  mine ; 

And  a  merry  heart  lives  long-a."  50 

Fal.   Well  said,  Master  Silence. 
Sil.   An  we  shall  be  merry,  now  comes  in  the  sweet 

o'  the  night. 

Fal   Health   and   long   life   to   you,   Master   Si- 
lence. 55 


sc.  HI    tytmy  t\)t  5Fourtl)t  part  3131        133 

Sil.    [Singing.]  "Fill  the  cup,  and  let  it  come  ; 
I'll  pledge  you  a  mile  to  the  bottom." 
Shal.   Honest  Bardolph,  welcome.     If  thou  want'st 

anything,    and    wilt    not    call,    beshrew    thy 

heart.     Welcome,  my  little  tiny  thief  [to  the     60 

•Page],  and  welcome  indeed  too.     I'll  drink  to 

Master  Bardolph,   and  to  all  the   cavaleros 

about  London. 

Davy.    I  hope  to  see  London  once  ere  I  die. 
Bard.   An  I  might  see  you  there,  Davy,  —  65 

Shal.   By  the  mass,  you'll  crack  a  quart  together, 

ha  !  will  you  not,  Master  Bardolph  ? 
Bard.   Yea,  sir,  in  a  pottle-pot. 
Shal.   By  God's  liggens,  I  thank  thee.     The  knave 

will  stick  by  thee,  I  can  assure  thee  that.     'A     70 

will  not  out ;   he  is  true  bred. 
Bard.   And  I'll  stick  by  him,  sir. 

One  knocks  at  door. 
Shal.   Why,  there  spoke  a  king.     Lack  nothing  ;  be 

merry !     Look    who's    at    door    there.     Ho ! 

who  knocks  ?  [Exit  Davy.] 

Fal.    Why,  now  you  have  done  me  right.  76 

[To  Silence,  seeing  him  take  off  a  bumper.] 
SiL  [Singing.]  "Do  me  right, 

And  dub  me  knight : 
S'amingo." 

Is't  not  so  ?  80 

Fal.    'Tisso. 


134        H?enr£  t\)t  Ifourtft,  pare  3131    Act  v 

Sil.   Is't  so  ?    Why  then,  say  an  old  man  can  do 
somewhat. 

[Re-enter  Davy.] 

Davy.   An't  please  your  worship,  there's  one  Pistol 

come  from  the  court  with  news.  85 

Fal.   From  the  court !    Let  him  come  in. 

Enter  Pistol 

How  now,  Pistol ! 
Pist.   Sir  John,  God  save  you  ! 
Fal.   What  wind  blew  you  hither,  Pistol  ? 
Pist .   Not  the  ill  wind  which  blows  no  man  to  good.     90 

Sweet  knight,  thou  art  now  one  of  the  greatest 

men  in  this  realm. 
Sil.   By'r  lady,  I  think  'a  be,  but  goodman  Puff  of 

Barson. 
Pist.   Puff!  95 

Puff  i'  thy  teeth,  most  recreant  coward  base  ! 

Sir  John,  I  am  thy  Pistol  and  thy  friend, 

And  helter-skelter  have  I  rode  to  thee, 

And  tidings  do  I  bring,  and  lucky  joys 

And  golden  times  and  happy  news  of  price.         100 
Fal.    I  pray  thee  now,  deliver  them  like  a  man  of 

this  world. 
Pist.   A  foutra  for  the  world  and  worldlings  base  ! 

I  speak  of  Africa  and  golden  joys. 
Fal.   O  base  Assyrian  knight,  what  is  thy  news  ?       105 

Let  King  Cophetua  know  the  truth  thereof. 


sc.  HI    ^ntrp  tlje  jF  ourtl),  part  301        135 

SiL  [Singing.] 

"  AndTRobin  Hood,  Scarlet,  and  John." 

Pist.   Shall  dunghill  curs  confront  the  Helicons  ? 
And  shall  good  news  be  baffled  ? 
Then,  Pistol,  lay  thy  head  in  Furies'  lap.  110 

SiL   Honest  gentleman,  I  know  not  your  breed- 
ing. 

Pist.    Why  then,  lament  therefore. 

Skal.    Give  me  pardon,  sir.     If,  sir,  you  come  with 

news  from  the  court,  I  take  it  there's  but  two  115 
ways,  either  to  utter  them,  or  to  conceal  them. 
I  am,  sir,  under  the  King,  in  some  author- 
ity. 

Pist.   Under  which  king,  Besonian  ?  Speak,  or  die.    119 

Shal.   Under  King  Harry. 

Pist.  Harry  the  Fourth  or  Fifth  ? 

Skal.   Harry  the  Fourth. 

Pist.  A  foutra  for  thine  office ! 

Sir  John,  thy  tender  lambkin  now  is  king  ; 
Harry  the  Fifth's  the  man.     I  speak  the  truth. 
When  Pistol  lies,  do  this,  and  fig  me  like 
The  bragging  Spaniard.  125  ' 

Fal.   What,  is  the  old  king  dead  ? 

Pist.   As  nail  in  door.     The  things  I  speak  are  just. 

Fal.   Away,  Bardolph  !  saddle  my  horse.     Master 
Robert  Shallow,  choose  what  office  thou  wilt 
in  the  land,'  'tis  thine.     Pistol,  I  will  double-   130 
charge  thee  with  dignities. 


136        tymvg  ti)t  jfourct),  JjDart  3131    Actv 

Bard.   O  joyful  day  ! 

I  would  not  take  a  knighthood  for  my  fortune. 

Pist.    What !  I  do  bring  good  news. 

Fal.  Carry  Master  Silence  to  bed.  Master  Shal-  135 
low,  my  Lord  Shallow,  —  be  what  thou  wilt ;  I 
am  Fortune's  steward  —  get  on  thy  boots.  We'll 
ride  all  night.  O  sweet  Pistol !  Away,  Bardolph  ! 
[Exit  Bard.]  Come,  Pistol,  utter  more  to  me  ; 
and  withal  devise  something  to  do  thyself  good.  140 
Boot,  boot,  Master  Shallow !  I  know  the 
young  king  is  sick  for  me.  Let  us  take  any 
man's  horses  ;  the  laws  of  England  are  at  my 
commandment.  Blessed  are  they  that  have  been 
my  friends  ;  and  woe  to  my  Lord  Chief  Justice !  145 

Pist.   Let  vultures  vile  seize  on  his  lungs  also  ! 
"Where  is  the  life  that  late  I  led  ?"  say  they. 
Why  here  it  is  ;  welcome  these  pleasant  days  ! 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV 

[London.    A  street.] 

Enter  Beadles,  [dragging  in]  Hostess  Quickly  and  Doll 
Tearsheet. 

Host.  No,  thou  arrant  knave  ;  I  would  to  God  that 
I  might  die,  that  I  might  have  thee  hang'd. 
Thou  hast  drawn  my  shoulder  out  of  joint. 

1.  Bead.    The  constables  have  deliver'd  her  over 


sc.  iv    n?enrp  0)t  jfourtl),  put  3)31        137 

to  me ;    and  she   shall   have  whipping-cheer       5 
enough,  I  warrant  her.  There  hath  been  a  man 
or  two  lately  kill'd  about  her. 

Dol.   Nut-hook,  nut-hook,  you  lie.     Come  on  !  I'll 
tell    thee    what,    thou    damn'd    tripe-visag'd 
rascal,   an  the  child  I  now  go  with  do   mis-     10 
carry,  thou  wert  better  thou  hadst  struck  thy 
mother,  thou  paper-fac'd  villain  ! 

Host.  O  the  Lord,  that  Sir  John  were  come  !  He 
would  make  this  a  bloody  day  to  somebody. 
But  I  pray  God  the  fruit  of  her  womb  miscarry.  15 

1.  Bead.  If  it  do,  you  shall  have  a  dozen  of  cushions 
again ;  you  have  but  eleven  now.  Come, 
I  charge  you  both  go  with  me  ;  for  the  man  is 
dead  that  you  and  Pistol  beat  amongst  you. 

Dol.    I'll  tell  you  what,  you  thin  man  in  a  censer,     20 
I  will  have  you  as  soundly  swinged  for  this,  — 
you  blue-bottle  rogue,  you  filthy  famish'd  cor- 
rectioner,  if  you  be  not  swinged,  I'll  forswear 
half-kirtles. 

1.  Bead.    Come,    come,    you     she    knight-errant,     25 
come. 

Host.  O  God,  that  right  should  thus  overcome 
might !  Well,  of  sufferance  comes  ease. 

Dol.  Come,  you  rogue,  come ;  bring  me  to  a  jus- 
tice. 30 

Host.   Ay,  come,  you  starv'd  blood-hound. 

Dol.   Goodman  death,  goodman  bones  ! 


i3»        ^ntr?  t\)t  jfourtt),  part  331    Act  v 

Host.  Thou  atomy,  thou  ! 

Dol.   Come,  you  thin  thing ;  come,  you  rascal. 

1.  Bead.   Very  well.  Exeunt.  35 

SCENE  V 

[A  public  place  near  Westminster  Abbey.] 
Enter  two  Grooms,  strewing  rushes. 

1.  Groom.   More  rushes,  more  rushes. 

2.  Groom.   The  trumpets  have  sounded  twice. 

1.  Groom.    'Twill  be  two  o'clock  ere  they  come  from 
the  coronation.     Dispatch,  dispatch.  Exeunt. 

Trumpets  sound,  and  the  King  and  his  train  pass  over 
the  stage.  After  them  enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Pistol, 
Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Fal.   Stand  here  by  me,  Master  Robert  Shallow ;       5 
I  will  make  the  King  do  you  grace.     I  will 
leer  upon  him  as  he  comes  by ;    and  do  but 
mark  the  countenance  that  he  will  give  me. 

Pist.    God  bless  thy  lungs,  good  knight. 

Fal.  Come  here,  Pistol ;  stand  behind  me.  O,  if  I  10 
had  had  time  to  have  made  new  liveries,  I 
would  have  bestowed  the  thousand  pound  I 
borrowed  of  you.  But  'tis  no  matter ;  this 
poor  show  doth  better  ;  this  doth  infer  the  zeal 
I  had  to  see  him.  15 


sc.  v     i£enn?  tty  jFourrtj,  JDart  3131        139 

[Shal]    It  doth  so. 

Fal.   It  shows  niy  earnestness  of  affection,  — 

Shal.    It  doth  so. 

Fal.   My  devotion,  — 

Shal.     It  doth,  it  doth,  it  doth.  20 

Fal.  As  it  were,  to  ride  day  and  night ;  and  not  to 
deliberate,  not  to  remember,  not  to  have 
patience  to  shift  me,  — 

Shal.    It  is  best,  certain. 

[Fal.]   But  to  stand  stained  with  travel,  and  sweat-     25 
ing  with  desire  to  see  him ;   thinking  of  noth- 
ing else,  putting  all  affairs  else  in  oblivion,  as 
if  there  were  nothing  else  to  be  done  but  to  see 
him. 

Pist.   'Tis  "semper  idem"  for  "obsque  hoc  nihil  est"  SO 
'Tis  all  in  every  part. 

Shal.   Tis  so,  indeed. 

Pist.   My  knight,  I  will  inflame  thy  noble  liver, 
And  make  thee  rage. 

Thy  Doll,  and  Helen  of  thy  noble  thoughts,        35 
Is  in  base  durance  and  contagious  prison ; 
Hal'd  thither 

By  most  mechanical  and  dirty  hand. 
Rouse  up  revenge  from  ebon  den  with  fell  Alecto's 
snake,  39 

For  Doll  is  in.     Pistol  speaks  nought  but  truth. 

Fal.   I  will  deliver  her. 

Pist.   There  roar'd  the  sea,  and  trumpet-clangor  sounds. 


140        lentil?  tfc  jfourtfc,  piw  131    Act  v 


The  trumpets  sound.     Enter  the  King  and  his  train,  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice  among  them. 

Fal.  God  save  thy  Grace,  King  Hal  !   my  royal 
Hal! 

Pist.   The  heavens  thee  guard  and  keep,  most  royal    45 
imp  of  fame  ! 

Fal.   God  save  thee,  my  sweet  boy  ! 

King.   My  Lord  Chief  Justice,  speak  to  that  vain  man. 

Ch.   Just.  Have  you  your  wits  ?    Know  you  what  'tis 
you  speak  ?  49 

Fal.   My  king  !  my  Jove  !   I  speak  to  thee,  my  heart  ! 

King.   I  know  thee  not,  old  man  ;   fall  to  thy  prayers. 
How  ill  white  hairs  become  a  fool  and  jester  ! 
I  have  long  dream'd  of  such  a  kind  of  man, 
So  surfeit-swell'd,  so  old,  and  so  profane  ; 
But,  being  awak'd,  I  do  despise  my  dream.          55 
Make  less  thy  body  hence,  and  more  thy  grace  ; 
Leave  gormandizing  ;  know  the  grave  doth  gape 
For  thee  thrice  wider  than  for  other  men. 
Reply  not  to  me  with  a  fool-born  jest. 
Presume  not  that  I  am  the  thing  I  was  ;  60 

For  God  doth  know,  so  shall  the  world  perceive, 
That  I  have  turn'd  away  my  former  self  ; 
So  will  I  those  that  kept  me  company. 
When  thou  dost  hear  I  am  as  I  have  been, 
Approach  me,  and  thou  shalt  be  as  thou  wast,     65 
The  tutor  and  the  feeder  of  my  riots  ; 


sc.  v     tytmv  tty  jFourtl),  jpart  3131        141 

Till  then,  I  banish  thee,  on  pain  of  death, 

As  I  havefdone  the  rest  of  my  misleaders, 

Not  to  come  near  our  person  by  ten  mile. 

For  competence  of  life  I  will  allow  you,  70 

That  lack  of  means  enforce  you  not  to  evils ; 

And,  as  we  hear  you  do  reform  yourselves, 

We  will,  according  to  your  strengths  and  qualities, 

Give  you  advancement.     Be  it  your  charge,  my 

lord, 

To  see  perform'd  the  tenour  of  my  word.  75 

Set  on.  Exeunt  King  [etc.]. 

Fal.  Master  Shallow,  I  owe  you  a  thousand 
pound. 

Shdl.   Yea,  marry,  Sir  John  ;    which  I  beseech  you 

to  let  me  have  home  with  me.  80 

Fal.  That  can  hardly  be,  Master  Shallow.  Do  not 
you  grieve  at  this  ;  I  shall  be  sent  for  in  pri- 
vate to  him.  Look  you,  he  must  seem  thus  to 
the  world.  Fear  not  your  advancements  ;  I 
will  be  the  man  yet  that  shall  make  you  great.  85 

Shal.  I  cannot  well  perceive  how,  unless  you  should 
give  me  your  doublet  and  stuff  me  out  with 
straw.  I  beseech  you,  good  Sir  John,  let 
me  have  five  hundred  of  my  thousand. 

Fal.   Sir,  I  will  be  as  good  as  my  word.     This  that    90 
you  heard  was  but  a  colour. 

Shal.  A  colour  that  I  fear  you  will  die  in,  Sir 
John. 


142        jjmrp  tlje  JFourflj,  part  3(31    Act  v 

Fal.  Fear  no  colours ;    go  with  me  to  dinner. 

Come,  Lieutenant  Pistol ;    come,  Bardolph.     95 
I  shall  be  sent  for  soon  at  night. 

Re-enter  Prince  John,  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  [Officers 
with  them], 

Ch.  Just.   Go,  carry  Sir  John  Falstaff  to  the  Fleet. 
Take  all  his  company  along  with  him. 

Fal.   My  lord,  my  lord,  — 

Ch.  Just.   I  cannot  now  speak ;  I  will  hear  you  soon. 
Take  them  away.  101 

Pist.   Sifortuna  me  tormenta,  spera  contenta. 

Exeunt  all  but  Prince  John  and  the  Chief 
Justice. 

Lan.    I  like  this  fair  proceeding  of  the  King's. 
He  hath  intent  his  wonted  followers 
Shall  all  be  very  well  provided  for  ;  105 

But  all  are  banish'd  till  their  conversations 
Appear  more  wise  and  modest  to  the  world. 

Ch.  Just.   And  so  they  are. 

Lan.   The  King  hath  calPd  his  parliament,  my  lord. 

Ch.  Just.   He  hath.  110 

Lan.   I  will  lay  odds  that,  ere  this  year  expire, 
We  bear  our  civil  swords  and  native  fire 
As  far  as  France.     I  heard  a  bird  so  sing, 
Whose  music,  to  my  thinking,  pleased  the  King. 
Come,  will  you  hence  ?  Exeunt.     115 


EPILOGUE 

[Spoken  by  a  Dancer.] 

First  my  fear ;  then  my  curtsy ;  last  my 
speech.  My  fear  is,  your  displeasure ;  my 
curtsy,  my  duty  ;  and  my  speech,  to  beg  your 
pardons.  If  you  look  for  a  good  speech  now, 
you  undo  me  ;  for  what  I  have  to  say  is  of  mine  5 
own  making ;  and  what  indeed  I  should  say 
will,  I  doubt,  prove  mine  own  marring.  But 
to  the  purpose,  and  so  to  the  venture.  Be  it 
known  to  you,  as  it  is  very  well,  I  was  lately 
here  in  the  end  of  a  displeasing  play,  to  pray  10 
your  patience  for  it  and  to  promise  you  a  bet- 
ter. I  meant  indeed  to  pay  you  with  this ; 
which,  if  like  an  ill  venture  it  come  unluckily 
home,  I  break,  and  you,  my  gentle  creditors, 
lose.  Here  I  promis'd  you  I  would  be,  and  here 
I  commit  my  body  to  your  mercies.  Bate  15 
me  some  and  I  will  pay  you  some  and,  as 
most  debtors  do,  promise  you  infinitely. 

If  my  tongue  cannot  entreat  you  to  acquit 
me,  will  you  command  me  to  use  my  legs  ? 
And  yet  that  were  but  light  payment,  to  dance  20 
out  of  your  debt.  But  a  good  conscience  will 
make  any  possible  satisfaction,  and  so  would 
143 


144        ^nttE  tt)*  jfourtl),  part  3131    Act  v 

I.     All  the  gentlewomen  here  have  forgiven 
me  ;  if  the  gentlemen  will  not,  then  the  gentle- 
men do  not  agree  with  the  gentlewomen,  which     £5 
was  never  seen  before  in  such  an  assembly. 

One  word  more,  I  beseech  you.  If  you  be 
not  too  much  cloy'd  with  fat  meat,  our  humble 
author  will  continue  the  story,  with  Sir  John 
in  it,  and  make  you  merry  with  fair  Katharine 
of  France ;  where,  for  anything  I  know,  30 
Falstaff  shall  die  of  a  sweat,  unless  already  'a 
be  kill'd  with  your  hard  opinions ;  for  Old- 
castle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  is  not  the  man. 
My  tongue  is  weary  ;  when  my  legs  are  too,  I 
will  bid  you  good  night ;  and  so  kneel  down  35 
before  you  ;  but,  indeed,  to  pray  for  the  Queen. 


Induction.  —  In  the  Folio  this  is  marked  "  Actus 
Primus.  Serena  Prima.  Induction"  and  the  first  act 
contains  four  scenes.  The  Quarto  is  not  divided  into  acts 
and  scenes.  Except  when  noted,  this  text  follows  the  divfcv 
sion  of  the  Folio. 

Warkworth.  —  Place-directions  are  supplied  by  modern 
editors,  with  the  exception  of  that  prefixed  to  Act  IV.  sc.  i. 
q.v.  Warkworth  in  Northumberland  came  into  the  pos- 
session of  the  Percy  family  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III,  and 
is  still  held  by  the  Earl  of  Northumberland. 

Rumour,  painted  full  of  tongues.  A  common  Eliza- 
bethan conception,  derived  from  Vergil's  description  of 
Fama,  JEneid,  IV.  173. 

15.   And  (there  is)  no  such  matter  ? 

24-27.     Cf.  1  Henry  IV,  V.  iv. 

37.  crafty-sick.  This  skillful  compound  suggests  that 
Hotspur  had  cause  for  the  irritation  so  vigorously  expressed 
in  1  Henry  77,  IV.  i.  17,  28. 

I.  i.  13.  God.  Changed  in  the  Folio  to  "heavens," 
as  in  many  other  cases,  because  of  the  statute  forbidding 
profanity  on  the  stage. 

I.  i.  63.  Has  left  a  witness  of  its  usurpation  or  invasion. 

I.  i.  129.  Gan  vail  his  stomach.  Began  to  lower  his 
courage. 

I.  i.  147.   sickly  quoif.     A  cap  worn  in  sickness. 

L  145 


I.  i.  174.  where  most  trade  of  danger  rang'd.  Trade 
is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  activity :  where  danger  ranged 
or  stalked  most  actively. 

I.  i.  184.  Chok'd  the  respect  of.  Destroyed  our  regard 
for. 

I.  i.  204,  205.  Extends  his  insurrection  by  references 
to  the  death  of  King  Richard.  Cf.  I.  iii.  97-107;  also 
Richard  77,  V.  i.  52. 

I.  ii.  1,  2.  A  reference  to  the  common  practice  of  diag- 
nosis by  examination  of  urine. 

I.  ii.  18.  agate.  A  reference  to  the  page's  diminutive 
stature  by  comparing  him  to  a  figure  engraved  in  agate 
for  a  seal  or  ornament. 

I.  ii.  26,  28.  face  royal.  Royal,  in  addition  to  the 
present  adjectival  meaning,  was  the  name  of  a  gold  ten- 
shilling  coin  stamped  with  the  king's  image.  A  similar 
pun  occurs  in  1  Henry  IV,  II.  iv.  321. 

I.  i.  40.  Alluding  to  the  rich  man  of  the  parable, 
Luke,  xvi.  24. 

I.  ii.  41.  yea-for-sooth  knave.  Hotspur  also  derides  mild 
oaths,  "  pepper-gingerbread  "  of  tradespeople.  1  Henry  IV, 
III.  i.  252-261. 

I.  ii.  42.  to  bear  ...  in  hand.  "  To  keep  in  expecta- 
tion." 

I.  ii.  45.  is  through  with  them  in  honest  taking  up. 
Does  his  prettiest  with  them  in  honorable  borrowing. 

I.  ii.  52-56.  A  play  on  the  two  meanings  of  horn,  the 
mark  of  the  cuckold,  and  the  material  by  which,  prior  to 
the  general  use  of  glass,  lanterns  were  enclosed. 

I.  ii.  58-61.  FalstaflF  had  engaged  Bardolph  at  St. 
Paul's,  then  used  as  a  general  resort  and  business  exchange 


147 


by  Londoners.  There  was  a  contemporary  aphorism, 
traced  back  ter  the  Choice  of  Change,  1598,  warning  men 
against  servants  procured  in  Paul's,  horses  in  Smithfield, 
and  wives  in  Westminster. 

I.  ii.  62.  63.  This  was  Sir  William  Gascoigne.  For 
the  story  of  his  sentencing  the  Prince  see  Introduction. 

I.  ii.  100.  grows  to  me.  Belongs  to  me  as  a  part  of 
myself. 

I.  ii.  131,  133.  it;  his.  Two  forms  of  the  possessive 
that  preceded  its,  which  came  into  literary  usage  about 
1600.  Its  does  not  appear  in  any  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
published  during  his  life,  but  occurs  ten  times  in  plays  that 
appeared  first  in  the  Folio  of  1623. 

I.  ii.  133.  Galen.  The  most  celebrated  of  ancient 
medical  writers,  whose  influence  was  strongly  felt  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  Born  about  130  A.D. 

I.  ii.  137.  This  is  the  line  that  in  the  Quarto  bears  the 
prefix  Old.  See  Introduction. 

I.  ii.  141.  Clarke  quotes  Lord  Campbell  to  prove  that 
"to  lay  by  the  heels  "  was  a  technical  expression  for 
committing  to  prison  ;  and  Falstaff  evidently  interprets 
these  words  with  that  meaning;  cf.  1.  146. 

I.  ii.  154.  land-service.  Falstaff  was  then  on  military 
duty  and  independent  of  civil  authority. 

I.  ii.  186-189.  Like  1.  26  above,  a  punning  reference 
to  a  coin,  the  angel,  which  when  light,  i.e.  under  weight. 
would  not  go  or  tell,  i.e.  pass  as  good  money. 

I.  ii.  197.  heat  of  our  livers.  The  liver  was  regarded 
as  the  seat  of  violent  passion.  Cf.  IV.  iii.  113. 

I.  ii.  238.  spit  white.  This  expression,  which  occurs 
in  several  plays  of  this  period,  has  caused  much  discussion. 


148 

It  seems  to  refer  to  one  of  the  physical  results  of  wine 
drinking,  or  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  sign  of  health,  as 
Furnivall  quotes  from  Batman  upon  Bartholome,  1582,  to 
prove. 

I.  ii.  253.  bear  crosses.  Like  II.  26  and  186  above,  a 
punning  reference  to  coins,  which  were  sometimes  stamped 
with  a  cross. 

I.  ii.  255.  Steevens  describes  the  pleasing  diversion  of 
filliping  a  toad  by  tossing  him  into  the  air  from  one  end 
of  a  board  by  striking  heavily  on  the  other  end.  A  three- 
man  beetle  is  a  rammer  handled  by  three  men. 

I.  ii.  259,  260.  degrees.  Changed  by  Collier  to  diseases, 
a  reading  followed  by  many  editors.  In  what  sense 
degrees  was  used  is  doubtful;  but  it  may  signify  grades 
or  conditions  of  ailment.  —  prevent  has  here  its  literal 
meaning,  come  before,  anticipate. 

I.  iii.  s.  d.     Archbishop.     Richard  Scrope. 

I.  iii.  36-55.  Not  in  the  Quarto.  Lines  37-40  in  the 
Folio  read : 

Yes,  if  this  present  quality  of  warre, 
Indeed  the  instant  action  :  a  cause  on  foot, 
Lives  so  in  hope  :  As  in  an  early  Spring 

a  passage  which  has  caused  voluminous  emendation  and 
discussion. 

I.  iii.  38.  Lives  so  in  hope.  Is  so  related  to  hope  or  has 
such  hope. 

I.  iii.  55.  How  able  our  estate  or  condition  is  to  weigh 
or  measure  against  its  opponents ;  i.e.  to  hold  its  own 
against  opposition. 

I.  iii.  71.   French.     In    1405,    according   to   Holinshed, 


149 


French  troops  landed  at  Milford  Haven  and  advanced 
as  far  as  Worcester.  This,  however,  was  after  the  sup- 
pression of  the  Archbishop's  rebellion. 

II.  i.  26.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  an  explanation  of 
Mistress  Quickly's  expressions.  It  should  be  noted, 
however,  that  her  vocabulary  is  large  and  far  from  illiter- 
ate. She  aspires  to  be  an  artist  in  words,  and  fails  not 
in  ideal,  but  in  execution. 

II.  i.  35.  one.  This  has  been  variously  emended  to 
read  loan  by  Theobald  ;  score  by  Collier  ;  ow'n,  contraction 
of  owing  and  pronounced  like  one,  by  White.  The  mean- 
ing of  the  Hostess  is  clear,  however  ;  the  bill  is  too 
long. 

II.  i.  45.  me.  Indirect  object,  comparable  to  the  ethi- 
cal dative,  and  very  common  in  Elizabethan  speech. 

II.  i.  94.  Dolphin  chamber.  It  was  customary  to 
name  not  only  inns,  but  separate  rooms  within  the  inns. 
Cf.  the  Half  -moon  and  the  Pomgarnet,  1  Henry  IV,  II. 
iv.  30,  42 

II.  i.  142.    Answer  as  befits  your  reputation. 

II.  i.  155.  Glasses.  Then  newly  in  vogue  and  threat- 
ening to  supplant  gold  and  silver  plate. 

II.  i.  158.  water-  work.  Water-color  decoration  of  walls 
is  evidently  referred  to,  probably  cheaper  and  certainly 
newer  than  tapestry,  which  Falstaff  affects  to  despise. 

II.  ii.  5.   discolours  the  complexion.     Causes  to  blush. 

II.  ii.  22-24.  As  Clarke  suggests,  this  is  evidently  an 
allusion  to  playing  tennis  in  shirt-sleeves;  consequently 
when  out  of  linen  Poins  could  not  frequent  the  courts. 

II.  ii.  25-30.  These  lines  are  not  found  in  the  Folio, 
where  many  similar  coarse  and  indecent  passages  are  either 


entirely  lacking  or  are  changed  to  approximate  propriety. 
The  allusion  is  to  Poins'  illegitimate  children  clothed  in 
his  ragged  shirts,  with  a  play  on  Holland  as  one  of  the 
low  countries  and  as  linen. 

II.  ii.  40.   stand  the  push.     Await  the  encounter. 

II.  ii.  72.  a  proper  fellow  of  my  hands.  "  A  fine  look- 
ing fellow  of  my  inches."  (White.)  "  A  handsome  fellow 
of  my  size."  (Mason.)  "  Possibly  ...  a  phrase  often  made 
use  of  to  introduce  qualifications  discreditable  to  the  object 
of  them."  (Vaughan.)  "A  shapely  and  agile  man." 
(Herford.) 

II.  ii.  86.   red  lattice.     The  sign  of  ale  houses. 

II.  ii.  96.  97.  It  was  Hecuba  who  had  this  dream.  The 
life  of  Althea's  son,  Meleager,  depended  on  the  preserva- 
tion of  a  fire  brand,  which  once  in  a  fit  of  anger  she 
quenched. 

II.  ii.  110.  martlemas.  A  current  form  of  Martinmas. 
St.  Martin's  day  was  November  11.  On  this  date  it  was 
customary  to  kill  fatted  oxen  for  consumption  during  the 
winter,  and  the  term  may  be  an  abbreviation  for  "  Martlemas 
ox."  Cf.  1  Henry  IV,  III.  iii.  198,  where  the  Prince  salutes 
Falstaff  as  "  my  sweet  beef." 

II.  ii.  115.  wen.  The  reference  is  to  the  size  of  Fal- 
staff. 

II.  ii.  125.  borrower's  cap.  Warburton's  emendation  of 
the  Quarto,  borrowed  cap.  Warburton  explains  the  reading 
thus,  "  a  man  that  goes  to  borrow  money  is  of  all  others 
most  complaisant ;  his  cap  is  always  at  hand." 

II.  ii.  128.  fetch  it  from  Japhet.  The  reference  seems 
to  be  to  the  long  genealogical  lists  by  which  one  derives 
descent  and  proves  kinship. 


151 

II.  iii.  24.  speaking  thick.  With  impetuous  and  stam- 
mering haste,  the  opposite  of  low  and  tardily,  1.  26. 

II.  iii.  55.   for  all  our  loves.     For  the  love  of  all  of  us. 

JI.  iv.  21.  old  utis.  Old  is  here  intensive,  as  in  many 
modern  slang  expressions.  Utis,  also  spelled  utast  jollity, 
merry  making,  as  on  the  octave  of  a  festival,  from  Old 
French  utas,  utaves,  octaves. 

II.  iv.  36.    From  the  old  ballad  of  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lake. 

II.  iv.  53.  The  version  of  The  Boy  and  the  Mantle 
that  appears  in  Percy's  Reliques  contains  the  line  "  With 
brooches,  rings,  and  owches." 

II.  iv.  108.  a  Barbary  hen.  One  whose  feathers  are 
naturally  ruffled.  Cf.  As  You  Like  It,  IV.  i.  151. 

II.  iv.  141.  basket-hilt  stale  juggler.  "A  worn-out 
practiser  of  sword  tricks."  (Herford.) 

II.  iv.  146-148.     Omitted  in  Folio. 

II.  iv.  161.  Occupy  had  an  obscene  meaning  at  this 
time. 

II.  iv.  169-173.  Malone  suggested  that  this  was  prob- 
ably a  quotation  or  adaptation  from  a  lost  play,  The 
Turkish  Mahomet  and  Hiren  the  Fair  Greek,  attributed  to 
George  Peele.  Hiren  is  Irene  Anglicized;  but  Pistol 
seems  to  apply  it  to  his  sword,  perhaps  confusing  it  with 
iron,  and  Mistress  Quickly  considers  it  an  opprobrious 
term  for  a  woman,  1.  190.  In  Peele's  Merie  Conceited  Jests 
Hiren  is  said  to  be  "  in  Italian  called  a  Curtezan." 

II.  iv.  178,  179.  A  perversion  of  Marlowe's  2  Tambur- 
laine,  IV.  ii.  1,  2.  Probably  the  remainder  of  this  speech 
is  a  hodge-podge  of  misquotations  from  old  plays. 

II.  iv.  182.  let  the  welkin  roar.  Steevens  identified 
this  line  in  two  old  ballads. 


II.  iv.  193.  A  burlesque  of  a  line  from  Peele's  Battle 
of  Alcazar,  1594. 

II.  iv.  195.  Pistol's  version  of  a  motto  current  in 
Italian  and  French.  Se  fortuna  me  tormenta,  il  sperare  me 
contenta;  Si  fortune  me  tourmente,  Vespbrance  me  contente; 
If  fortune  torments  me,  hope'  contents  me.  Douce  had  in 
his  possession  an  old  rapier  with  the  French  motto  engraved 
upon  it,  and  considered  that  Pistol  here  and  in  V.  v.  102 
read  a  similar  inscription  from  his  own  sword. 

II.  iv.  201.  We  have  seen  the  Pleiades;  i.e.  spent  the 
nights  together.  Cf.  1  Henry  IV,  I.  ii.  16. 

II.  iv.  211.  Then  death  rock  me  asleep.  The  first 
line  of  a  poem  attributed  to  Anne  Boleyn. 

II.  iv.  213.  Dyce  sees  in  this  absurd  line  a  parody  of 
a  portion  of  Sackville's  Complaint  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham in  A  Mirrour  for  Magistrates,  1563. 

II.  iv.  238.  Nine  Worthies.  These  were  usually  said 
to  be  Hector,  Alexander,  and  Julius  Caesar;  Joshua, 
David,  and  Judas  Maccabeus;  Arthur,  Charlemagne,  and 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon. 

II.  iv.  250.  Bartholomew  boar-pig.  Roast  pig  was 
one  of  the  chief  dainties  served  at  Bartholomew  Fair,  the 
most  noted  of  London  fairs  held  in  Smithfield  on  St. 
Bartholomew's  day. 

II.  iv.  268.   rides  the  wild-mare.     Plays  see-saw. 

II.  iv.  278.  nave  of  a  wheel.  Clarke  considered  this 
an  allusion  to  "  Sir  John's  combined  knavery  and  rotun- 
dity." 

II.  iv.  288.  fiery  Trigon.  In  astrological  parlance 
the  signs  of  the  zodiac  were  divided  into  four  groups  or 
trigons,  consisting  of  the  fiery,  airy,  watery,  and  earthly 


153 


signs.  The  allusion  here  is  to  Bardolph's  complexion, 
which  seems^t(Tconcentrate  all  the  fiery  elements. 

II.  iv.  308.  Poins  his  brother.  A  form  of  the  posses- 
sive then  common. 

II.  iv.  324.  if  you  take  not  the  heat.  If  you  do  not 
strike  while  the  iron  is  hot. 

II.  iv.  358.  dead  elm.  Schmidt's  suggestion  is  usu- 
ally quoted,  "  perhaps  on  account  of  the  weak  support 
he  had  given  to  Doll  Tearsheet  "  ;  but  this  interpretation 
seems  worse  than  none.  I  am  inclined  to  regard  it  as  a 
reference  to  Falstaff  s  age  and  spreading  bulk. 

II.  iv.  366.   bums  poor  souls.      Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's 
emendation  burns,  poor  soul  has  been  followed    by  many 
modern   editors.      By  either   reading   the   reference  is   to 
the  contagion  of    the  disease  formerly  called   "  the  burn- 
ing." 

III.  i.  30.   happy  low,  lie  down.     Warburton's  ingenious 
emendation  of  happy  lowly  clown  has  not  commended  itself 
to  later  editors,  most  of  whom  follow  the  plain  reading  of 
the  text  of  both  Quarto  and  Folio,  and  interpret  low  as  an 
adjective  with  substantive  suggestion. 

III.  i.  53-56.  This  passage  is  not  in  the  Folio,  and  has 
been  attacked  by  White  as  "  a  square  block  of  puling 
commonplace  let  into  a  grand  and  vigorous  passage." 
Is  it  not  rather  the  natural  expression  of  an  embittered 
and  broken  man  letting  his  mind  wander  back  over  the 
vanity  of  an  unsatisfied  life?  Note  the  rallying  in  92, 
and  the  fretful,  peevish  outbreak  in  IV.  iv.  103. 

III.  i.  66-79.  Cf.  Richard  77,  V.  i.  55-68.  It  will  be 
seen  that  neither  the  King  nor  Warwick  was  present  when 
Richard's  eyes,  washed  clear  by  tears,  foresaw  the  future. 


III.  i.  72.  If  this  is  in  the  indicative  mood  it  is  in  direct 
contradiction  of  the  facts  as  given  in  Richard  //,  IV.  i; 
note  especially  1.  113.  However,  it  is  probably  a  part  of  an 
implied  conditional  sentence:  I  should  have  had  no  such 
intent  if  necessity  had  not,  etc. 

III.  i.  103.  Holinshed  places  Glendower's  death  in  the 
tenth  year  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IV,  1408-1409,  although 
later  historians  have  found  reason  to  assert  that  he  was 
alive  in  1416. 

III.  ii.  33.  Skogan.  Henry  Scogan  was  a  poet  of  this 
period;  but  his  fame  has  become  confused  with  that  of 
John  Scogan,  who  fifty  years  later  was  fool  at  the  court  of 
Edward  IV. 

III.  ii.  42.    How  (much  is)  a  good  yoke  of  bullocks? 

III.  ii.  51-53.  He  would  have  hit  the  mark  at  twelve 
score  yards;  and  shot  fourteen  and  fourteen  and  a  half 
score  yards  with  a  forehand  shaft,  an  arrow  described  very 
vaguely  in  Ascham's  Toxophilus. 

III.  ii.  56.  Thereafter  as  they  be.  According  to  their 
condition. 

III.  ii.  145,  146.  We  have  a  number  of  false  names  to 
enter  in  the  muster-book.  For  these  shadow-soldiers  pay 
would  be  received  and  pocketed  by  the  recruiting  officer. 

III.  ii.  178.  Evidently  an  allusion  to  the  occupants  of 
Wart's  garments. 

HI.  ii.  236.  four  Harry  ten  shillings  in  French  crowns. 
Ten-shilling  pieces  were  first  coined  in  the  reign  of  Henry 
VII.  A  French  crown  was  worth  rather  less  than  five 
shillings. 

III.  ii.  298.  Mile-end  Green.  An  open  place  in  London 
for  public  sports  and  military  manoeuvres. 


155 

III.  ii.  300.  Sir  Dagonet  in  Arthur's  show.  Arthur's 
show  was  an  exhibition  of  archery  by  a  society  of  fifty- 
eight  members  known  as  "the  Auncient  Order,  Society, 
and  Unitie  Laudable  of  Prince  Arthjire  and  his  Knightly 
Armory  of  the  Round  Table."  The  members  named 
themselves  for  the  characters  in  the  romances  of  Arthur. 
Sir  Dagonet  was  the  fool  in  the  Morte  d*  Arthur. 

III.  ii.  319.   at  a  word.     Briefly,  in  one  word. 

III.  ii.  337.  invincible.  Not  to  be  evinced,  indeter- 
minable. (Schmidt.)  Rowe's  emendation,  invisible,  has 
been  often  adopted. 

III.  ii.  343.  fancies,  good-nights.  These  were  used  as 
titles  of  certain  light  lyrics. 

III.  ii.  344.  Vice's  dagger.  The  vice  of  the  old  Moral- 
ities carried  a  flat,  wooden  dagger. 

III.  ii.  355.   a  philosopher's  two  stones.     Of   as  much 
value  as  two  philosopher's  stones,  which  transmuted  base 
metal  into  gold.      This  boast  Falstaff  fulfils,  as  we  know 
from  V.  v.  12. 

IV.  i.  s.  d.    The  one  scene  direction  of  the  Quarto  reads : 
"  Enter  the    Archbishop,    Mowbray,    Bardolfe,   Hastings, 
within  the  forrest  of  Gaultree."     This  forest  in  the  North 
Riding  of  Yorkshire  was  formerly  very  extensive. 

IV.  i.  50.  graves.  Steevens's  emendation  of  greaves  has 
been  followed  by  many  editors.  It  should  be  noted, 
moreover,  that  greaves  and  graves  were  interchangeable 
spellings. 

IV.  i.  94-96.  "The  passage,  being  plainly  mutilated, 
defies  any  satisfactory  explanation."  (Dyce.) 

IV.  i.  117-129.    Cf.  Richard  //,  I.  iii. 

IV.  i.  135.   it.   Apparently  the  victory  implied  in  1. 134. 


156 


IV.  i.  146.  think.  Modern  usage  would  substitute  a 
causative  form  :  cause  one  to  think  or  cause  you  to  be 
thought. 

IV.  i.  170-175.  The  participial  clauses  are  conditional 
or  temporal  in  effect. 

IV.  i.  173.    Acquitted  by  a  true  and  valid  pardon. 

IV.  i.  174,  175.  The  idea  seems  to  be  :  the  immediate 
execution  of  our  wishes  pertaining  to  ourselves  and  our 
plans.  Johnson  read  consigned;  Hanmer  read  properties 
confirmed. 

IV.  i.  176.  awful  banks.  Bounds  of  awe  or  reverence. 
This  use  of  the  adjective  is  very  common  in  Shake- 
speare ;  cf.  the  modern  use  in  "  a  sick  bed,"  bed  of  sick- 
ness. 

IV.  i.  181.  place  of  difference.    Battlefield. 

IV.  i.  193.  royal  faiths.  Good  faith,  fidelity  to  the 
king. 

IV.  ii.  and  iii.  In  the  Folio  there  are  no  new  scenes 
indicated. 

IV.  iii.  58.  cinders  of  the  element.  A  right  Falstaffian 
reference  to  the  stars.  Element  has  here  the  meaning  of 
sky. 

IV.  iii.  113.   liver.     Cf.  note  on  I.  ii.  197. 

IV.  iii.  125.  Tyrwhitt  suggested  that  this  is  an  allu- 
sion to  the  Cambridge  Commencement  and  the  Oxford 
Act,  i.e.  the  conferring  of  degrees  by  which  students  may 
make  use  of  their  hoard  of  learning. 

IV.  iii.  140-142.  The  figure  is  that  of  sealing  with 
soft,  tempered  wax. 

IV.  iv.  45,  46.  Even  though  mingled  with  the  incite- 
ments to  discord  such  as  the  age  will  certainly  infuse, 


157 


IV.  v.  In  the  Folio  there  is  no  new  scene  indicated; 
but  the  King's  order  in  IV.  iv.  131,  132  and  his  question 
in  IV.  v.  233,  234  indicate  a  change  of  place. 

IV.  v.  31.  scald'st  with  safety.  Burns  while,  protect- 
ing. 

IV.  v.  79,  80.  This  realization  yields  its  accumulation 
of  bitterness  to  the  dying  father. 

IV.  v.  163.  medicine  potable.  Aurum  potabile,  liquid 
gold,  was  regarded  as  the  elixir  of  life  and  was  eagerly 
sought  for  by  alchemists. 

IV.  v.  212,  213.  look  too  near  unto.  Scrutinize  too 
closely. 

IV.  v.  229,  230.  With  the  sight  of  thee,  or  in  thy  sight, 
my  worldly  career  comes  to  an  end. 

IV.  v.  235.   The  Jerusalem  Chamber,  in  the  southwest 
corner  of   Westminster  Abbey,   was  built    between   1376 
and  1386  as  a  guest  chamber;    but  in  the  time  of   King 
Henry  IV  was  used  as  a  council  chamber. 

V.  i.  42.   Woncot.     See  Introduction. 

V.  i.  89.  Terms,  actions.  Time  is  here  computed  by 
the  sittings  of  court  and  the  length  of  law  cases  or  actions. 

V.  ii.  34.  Equivalent  to  the  figurative  expression,  goes 
against  the  grain. 

V.  ii.  38.  a  ragged  and  forestalled  remission.  A  con- 
temptible and  entreated  pardon. 

V.  ii.  90.  Mock  your  acts  as  performed  by  your  repre- 
sentatives. 

V.  ii.  99.   in  your  state.     In  your  royal  capacity. 

V.  ii.  123,  124.     Cf.  Henry  V,  I.  i.  25-28. 

V.  ii.  129.   After  my  seeming.    According  to  my  appear- 


V.  iii.  31,  32.  you  must  bear.  The  heart's  all.  You 
must  be  tolerant.  The  intention  is  the  main  thing. 

V.  iii.  76.   A  current  expression  in  toasting  and  drinking. 

V.  iii.  77-79.   Steevens  quotes  from    Nash's  Summer's 
Last  Will  and  Testament: 

God  Bacchus,  do  me  right, 
And  dub  me  Knight, 
Domingo. 

Silence's  S'amingo  is  evidently  an  attempt  at  San  Do- 
mingo. 

V.  iii.  103-106.  As  Warburton  suggests,  these  lines  are 
probably  drawn  from  a  lost  play  dealing  with  the  story 
of  King  Cophetua  and  the  beggar  maid. 

V.  iii.  107.   From  a  Robin  Hood  ballad. 

V.  iii.  147.  From  an  old  song  sung  also  by  Petruchio 
in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  IV.  i.  143. 

V.  iv.  s.  d.  The  Quarto  reads,  "  Enter  Sincklo  and  three 
or  four  officers."  By  a  similar  mistake  the  name  of  the 
actor  Sincklo  was  substituted  for  the  character  he  played 
in  the  Induction  to  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

V.  iv.  20.  thin  man  in  a  censer.  White  suggests  that 
the  man  wore  some  kind  of  a  cap  resembling  a  censer. 

V.  iv.  22.  blue-bottle  rogue.  Probably  a  reference  to 
the  color  of  the  beadle's  coat. 

V.  v.  30,  31.  Verplanck  suggests  that  Pistol  is  rattling 
off  Latin  and  English  mottoes  gathered  from  heraldic 
devices.  There  is  an  old  proverbial  saying,  "  All  in  all, 
and  all  in  every  part."  There,  seems  no  point  in  correcting 
Pistol's  obsque  to  absque,  as  has  been  done  by  many  editors 
from  the  time  of  the  Second  Folio  to  now. 


159 


V.  v.  57-59.  So  much  is  Falstaff  "  the  cause  that  wit 
is  in  other  men  "~  that  even  here  in  the  gravity  of  his 
newly  acquired  dignity  the  King  is  unable  to  refrain  from 
"  a  fool-born  jest  "  at  the  sight  of  his  old  companion. 
Harsh  as  he  is  in  his  stern  denial,  he  dares  not  hear  a  word 
in  reply,  and  suppresses  the  joke  that  he  sees  ready  to 
burst  from  the  veteran  punster's  lips. 

V.  v.  91-94.  colour.  Apparently  a  play  on  colour, 
pretence,  and  choler. 

V.  v.  102.   See  note  on  II.  iv.  195. 

Epilogue,  17.  The  Quarto  reads  after  infinitely:  "and 
so  I  kneele  downe  before  you  ;  but  indeed,  to  pray  for  the 
Queene,"  and  the  Epilogue  closes  with  good  night,  35. 
Evidently  the  last  two  paragraphs  are  an  addition  to 
the  original  epilogue,  and  probably  were  written  after 
the  name  of  Falstaff  had  been  changed,  and  perhaps  after 
the  rival  play  Sir  John  Oldcastle  had  been  performed  by 
Henslow's  company  in  1599. 

33.   Oldcastle.     See  Introduction. 

37.  pray  for  the  Queen.  In  the  earliest  days  of  the 
English  drama,  religious  plays  had  closed  with  prayer,  and 
the  custom  was  sometimes  continued  even  after  the  drama 
was  completely  secularized,  especially  in  plays  performed 
at  court. 


Cejtual 


The  text  in  the  present  edition  is  based  upon  the  first  Quarto, 
and  the  following  list  records  the  more  important  variations 
from  that  version,  and  also  the  more  important  changes  and 
omissions  in  the  Folio.  Passages  in  the  text  enclosed  in 
brackets  are  additions  from  the  first  Folio. 

Ind.  35.  hold]  Theobald;  hole  Q  Ff  . 

36.  Where]  Ff;   When  Q. 
I.  i.  103.   tolling]  Q;  knolling  Ff. 

106.  God]Q;  heaven  Ff. 

126.  Too]Ff;   So  Q. 

161.  [Tra.]  Capell;  Amfr.  Q;  Ff  omit  speech. 
164.  LeanJLeaueQ;  Leane  Ff  . 

166-179.   Ff;  Q  omits. 
188.   do]Ff;  dare  Q. 
189-209.   Ff  ;   Q  omits. 
ii.      9.  intends]  Q  ;  tends  Ff  . 

55.   Where's  Bardolph]  Ff  ;  after  through  it  in  53,  Q. 
111.   hath  .  .  .  age]  Ff  ;  have  .  .  .  ague  Q. 
137.   [FoJJFf;  Old.  Q. 

162.  slenderer]  Ff;   slender  Q. 

206,  7.   your  chin  double]  Q  ;  Ff  omit. 
210-211.   about.  .  .  afternoon]  Q;  Ff  omit. 
240-247.   but  it  ...  motion]  Q;  Ff  omit. 
iii.    21-24,36-55.   Ff;   Q  omits. 

37.  Needed]  Gould  conj.;  Indeed  Ff. 
66.  a]Ff;  so,  Q. 

160 


©ariants  161 


79-80.  To  French  .  .  .  him]  Capell;  French  .  .  .  him 
jQ^He  leaves  his  back  unarm'd,  the  French  and 
Welsh  Baying  him  Ff. 
85-108.  Ff;  Q  omits. 
U.I    24.   vice]Ff;  view  Q. 

182.   [Basingstoke]  Ff;  Billingsgate  Q. 
ii.      1,  s.  d.   Poins]  Rowe  ;  Paynes,  sir  lohn  Rusael,  with 

other  Q  ;   Pointz,  Bardolfe  and  Page  Ff  . 
18.  viz.]  Ff;  with  Q. 

26-30.   And  God    .  .  .  strengthened]  Q  ;  Ft  omit. 
80.  Poins.]  Q  Ft;  Bard.  Theobald. 
85.   'A  calls]  Q;  He  call'd  Ff. 
91.  rabbit]  Ff  ;   rabble  Q. 
125.   borrower's]  Theobald;  borrowed  Q  Ff. 
129.   "Sir]  Q  Ff  ;  Poins  [Reads]  "Sir  Hanmer. 
134.   "I]QFf;  Poins  [Reads]  "  I  Hanmer. 
137.   [Prince]  Q  Ff  omit. 
144.  familiars]  Ff;  family  Q. 
147.   Poins.]  Q;  Ft  omit. 
iii.    23-45.  Ff;  Q  omits. 
iv.      1,  11.     1.  Draw.]  Ft;  Francis  Q. 

14.  Dispatch]  Pope  ;   Dra.  Dispatch  Q  ;  Ff  omit  Dis- 

patch .  .  .  straight. 
16,  232.   Draw.]  Ft;  Francis  Q. 
20.  word]  Q  adds.    Enter  Will  Q. 
58,  59.   Q  ;  Ff  omit. 
125.   shall]  Ff;  shall  not  Q. 
146-148.   Q;   Ff  omit. 
III.  i.  Some  copies  of  Q  omit  this  scene. 

18.   mastJFf;  masse  Q. 
27.   sea-boy]  Ff  ;  season  Q.  . 


©artanw 


31,  s.  d.   Surrey]  Ff  ;   Surry,  and  Sir  lohn  Blunt  Q. 
53-56.   O,  if  .  .  .  die]  Q;  Ff  omit. 
ii.  121.   Fal.  Prick  him]  Ff  ;  lohn  prickes  him  Q. 

160.  [Fal.]  Theobald;  Shal.  Q  Ff  . 
337.   invincible]  Q  Ff  ;  invisible  Howe. 
338-339.   yet  ...  mandrake]  Q;  Ff  omit. 
341-344.   and  sung  .  .  .  good-nights]  Q;  Ff  omit. 

IV.  i.    34.   rags]  S.  Walker  conj.;  rage  Q  Ff. 

55-79.   Ff;   Q  omits. 
93,95.   Q;  Ff  omit. 
94-95.   Hopelessly  corrupt. 
103-139.   Ff  ;  Q  omits. 
139.   and  did]  Ff;  indeed  Thirlby  conj. 
180.  And]  Thirlby  conj.;  At  Q  Ff. 
ii.      8.   man]  Ff  ;  man  talking  Q. 
24.   Employ]  Ff;  Imply  Q. 
67.   Lan.]  lohn  Ff  ;  Q  omits. 
69.    [Hast.]¥f',  Prince  Q. 
Hi.    46.   Rome]  Ff  ;  Rome,  there  cosin  Q. 
iv.    32.   melting]  Ff  ;  meeting  Q. 
39.   time]  Q;   line  Ff. 

104.   write  .  .  .  letters]  Ff  ;  wet  .  .  .  termes  Q. 
v.    13.   alter'd]  Ff;    altred  Q  (CapeWs  copy)-,    uttred  Q 

(Devonshire  copy). 
75.   tolling]  Q;  culling  Ff. 
82.   hath]  Ff  ;  hands  Q. 

161.  worst  of]  Ff  ;  worse  then  Q. 
205.    [my]  Tyrwhitt  conj.;  thy  Q  Ff. 

V.  iv.      1,  s.  d.  Enter,  etc.]  Malone  ;   Enter  Sincklo  and  three  or 

four  officers  Q;     Enter  Hostesse   Quickly,   Dol 
Teare-sheete,  and  Beadles  Ff  . 


©ajriant* 


163 


4.  1  Bead.}  Malone;    Sincklo  Q;  Off.    Ff  (and  so 

throughout  the  scene). 

6,  7,  10.  enough,  lately,  now]  Ff ;  Q  omits. 
8.  Dol]  Ff ;  JF/tore  Q  (and  so  throughout  the  scene). 
v.      3.  1.  Groom]  Ff;  3.  Q. 
16.   [SAaZ.JFf;  Pist.  Q. 
18,20.   SAa/.]Hanmer;  Pw<.  Q  Ff . 
25.   [Fal.]  Ff ;   Q  owu'te. 
86.  well,  should]  Ff;  Q  omits. 
Epi.  35-36.    And  so  ...  Queen]  Ff ;  after  infinitely  in  17.  Q. 


'A,  he;  I.  ii.  48. 

abated,  reduced  to  lower  temper;  I.  i.  117. 

abroach,  afoot,  in  action ;   IV.  ii.  14. 

accite,  incite;   II.  ii.  65:   summon,  V.  ii.  141. 

accommodate,  supplied,  a  word  much  in  vogue  and  used 
without  discrimination;  III.  ii.  72-88. 

Achitophel,  a  treacherous  double-tongued  counsellor  who 
turned  from  David  to  Absalom;  I.  ii.  41. 

address,  prepare,  equip ;  IV.  iv.  5. 

affection,  propensity,  inclination;  IV.  iv.  65. 

agate,  see  note,  I.  ii.  18. 

Alecto,  one  of  the  Furies,  represented  as  wreathed  with 
snakes ;  V.  v.  39. 

Amurath,  the  third  Turkish  emperor  of  the  name,  died 
in  1595.  His  first  act  after  his  accession  in  1574  was 
to  strangle  his  five  brothers ;  V.  ii.  48. 

an,  if;  Li.  IS. 

anatomize,  analyze,  interpret;  Induct.  21. 

ancient,  ensign ;  II.  iv.  74. 

apple-John,  a  kind  of  apple  that  shriveled  without  decay- 
ing; II.  iv.  2. 

apprehensive,  imaginative ;   IV.  iii.  107. 

approve,  prove ;   I.  ii.  214. 

argument,  subject ;  V.  ii.  23. 

assemblance,  semblance,  appearance;   III.  ii.  277. 

atonement,  reconciliation;   IV.  i.  221. 

attach,  seize ;   II.  ii.  3 :  arrest ;   IV.  ii.  109. 

awful,  awe-inspiring ;   IV.  i.  176 ;   V.  ii.  86. 

band,  bond ;   I.  ii.  37. 

Barbary  hen,  see  note,  II.  iv.  108. 

•65 


Barson,  Barston  in  Warwickshire ;   V.  iii.  94. 

bate,  quarrel,  disturbance;    II.  iv.  271. 

bate,  reduce  a  debt,  used  quibblingly ;   Epil.  15. 

battle,  army  or  division  of  an  army;  III.  ii.  165;  IV. 
i.  154. 

bear  out,  support,  favor ;   V.  i.  54. 

bear-herd,  bear  tender  or  keeper;  I.  ii.  191. 

beaver,  helmet,  the  movable  part  of  the  helmet;  IV.  i. 
120. 

beshrew,  blame,  curse;  but  often  used  lightly  or  play- 
fully ;  II.  iii.  45 ;  V.  iii.  59. 

Besonian,  a  base  fellow;  V.  iii.  119. 

bestow,  behave,  deport ;   II.  ii.  186. 

biggen,  night-cap ;   IV.  v.  27. 

blubber,  sob ;   II.  iv.  420. 

bona-roba,  a  woman  of  the  town,  a  courtesan;  III.  ii. 
26,  217. 

book,  register,  record;   II.  ii.  49. 

book-oath,  an  oath  taken  on  the  Bible;  II.  i.  111. 

borne,  laden ;   II.  iv.  393. 

break,  become  bankrupt;   Epilogue,  13. 

breathe,  endow  with  breath;   IV.  i.  114. 

breeding,  parentage,  descent;   V.  iii.  111. 

buckle,  bend,  bow;   I.  i.  141. 

bung,  sharper,  pick-pocket;   II.  iv.  138. 

caliver,  a  light  musket ;   III.  ii.  290. 

calm,  qualm;    II.  iv.  41. 

canaries,  Canary  wine ;  II.  iv.  29. 

candle-mine,  tallow-pit;   II.  iv.  326. 

cankers,  canker-worms;   II.  ii.  102. 

cannibals,  presumably  Hannibals ;   II.  iv.  180. 

canvass,  toss  in  a  sheet ;  II.  iv.  243. 

caraway,  a  confection  containing  caraway  seeds;  V.  iii.  3» 


167 


case,  condition,  circumstances;   II.  i.  115. 

cast,  calculate*  reckon  ;   I.  i.  166;   V.  i.  21. 

catastrophe,  used  vulgarly  for  posteriors  ;   II.  i.  66. 

cavalero,  cavalier  ;  V.  iii.  62, 

censer,  i.e.  a  cap  like  a  censer;   V.  iv.  20. 

channel,  kennel,  gutter;    II.  i.  52. 

charge,  readiness  for  action  ;   IV.  i.  120. 

cheater,   rogue  or  trickster;    but  Mistress   Quickly  mis- 

understands it  as  escheater,  an  officer  of  the  exchequer; 

II.  iv.  105,  111. 
chops,  a  humorous  name  for  a   person  with  fat  cheeks; 

II.  iv.  235. 

clap,  see  note,  III.  ii.  51. 
close,  make  peace,  agree  ;   II.  iv.  354. 
clout,  see  note,  III.  ii.  52. 
cock  and  pie,  a  common  expletive    of   doubtful   origin; 

V.  i.  1. 

colour,  excuse,  pretense;   I.  ii.  276;   V.  v.  91. 
commit,  sentence  to  prison;   I.  ii.  63;   V.  ii.  83,  112;   but 

note  that  the  word  is  used  in  its    ordinary  sense  in 

V.  ii.  113. 

commodity,  profit,  advantage  ;  I.  ii.  279. 
compel,  enforce,  exact;  IV.  i.  147. 
conceit,  wit,  fancy  ;   II.  iv.  263. 
condition,  rank,  official  position  ;   IV.  iii.  90. 
conger,  conger-eel;   II.  iv.  58. 
consign,  agree,  assent;   V.  ii.  143. 
consist,  insist,  require;   IV.  i.  187. 
conversation,  habit,  way  of  life  ;  V.  v.  106. 
correctioner,  one  who  administers    correction  or   punish- 

ment ;   V.  iv.  23. 
costermonger,    a  hawker  of   small  fruits,  hence  a  term  of 

contempt;   I.  ii.  190. 
Cots'oP,  Cotswold,  famed  for  sports  ;   III.  ii.  23. 


i68 


countenance,  favor,  support  ;  V.  i.  49  :  as  a  verb,  V.  i.  41, 

57. 

cover,  lay  the  table;   II.  iv.  11. 
crack,  a  lively,  roguish  boy  ;   III.  ii.  34. 
crib,  a  small  room  ;   III.  i.  9. 
crudy,  crude,  raw;   IV.  iii.  106. 
curry,  seek  favor;   V.  i.  82. 
cuttle,  bully,  sharper;   II.  iv.  140. 

dear,  affecting  one  deeply  for  good  or  ill  ;   IV.  v.  141. 

defensible,  capable  of  making  defense;  II.  iii.  38. 

depart,  leave;  IV.  v.  91. 

derive  itself,  pass  by  descent  ;   IV.  v.  43. 

determine,  bring  to  an  end;  IV.  v.  82. 

dole,  dealing,  distribution  ;  I.  i.  169. 

doubt,  suspect,  fear;   Epil.  7. 

dram,  a  small  quantity  ;   I.  ii.  149. 

draw,  draw  together,  assemble;    I.    iii.    109:    withdraw. 

II.  i.  162. 

drawer,  wine-drawer,  tapster;   II.  ii.  191. 
dreadful,  to  be  dreaded  ;   V.  ii.  94. 
drooping,  sinking,  declining;   Induct.  3. 
duer,  more  duly  ;  III.  ii.  830. 
dull,  soothing,  producing  drowsiness  ;  IV.  v.  2. 

easy,  slight,  easy  to  bear;   V.  ii.  71. 

element,  the  sky  ;  IV.  iii.  58. 

endear'd,  closely  bound;   II.  iii.  11. 

engrafted,  attached;   II.  ii.  67. 

engross,  accumulate,  collect;  IV.  v.  71. 

engrossment,  see  note,  IV.  v.  80. 

Ephesians,  a  current  term  for   companions,  equivalent  to 

Corinthians,  1  Henry  IV,  II.  iv.  12;   II.  ii.  164. 
exion,  Mrs.  Quickly's  blunder  for  "  action  "  ;  II.  i.  33. 


169 


faitor,  evil  doer;   IL  iv.  173. 

fear,  affright,  alarm;  IV.  iv.  121. 

fennel,  an  herb  supposed  to  be  inflammatory  ;   II.  iv.  267. 

fetch  off,  cheat,  fleece;   III.  ii.  324. 

fig,   to   make   an   offensive   gesture,   especially    in   vogue 

among  the  Spanish;    V.  iii.  124. 
flap-dragon,  a  burning  substance  floating  on  wine;    II. 

iv.  267. 

flaw,  thin  ice;   IV.  iv.  35. 
Fleet,  the  Fleet  Prison  ;   V.  v.  97. 
flesh'd,  made  fierce,  as  if  fed  with  flesh;   I.  i.  149. 
foin,  thrust,  a  fencing  term  ;   II.  i.  18. 
fond,  foolishly  affectionate  ;   I.  iii.  91. 
fondly,  foolishly;   IV.  ii.  119. 

force  perforce,  an  emphatic  form  of  perforce;  IV.  i.  116. 
forehead,  assurance,  audacity;   I.  iii.  8. 
forgetive,  inventive,  apprehensive;  from/or^e;  IV.  iii.  107. 
foutra,  a  gross  term  of  contempt;   V.  iii.  103,  121. 
frame,  bring  to  pass  ;  IV.  i.  180. 
frank,  pen,  sty  ;   II.  ii.  160. 
fronting,  threatening;   IV.  iv.  66. 
fub  off,  fob  off,  put  off  ;  II.  i.  37. 
fustian,  bombastic  ;  II.  iv.  203. 

Galloway  nags,  inferior  horses  kept  for  hire  ;   II.  iv.  205. 
gan,  preterit  of  gin,  begin  ;   followed  by  infinitive  without 

to;   I.  i.  129. 

garland,  crown;  V.  ii.  84.         s 
get,  beget;   IV.  iii.  101. 

gibbet  on,  to  swing  on  a  gibbet  or  yoke  ;   III.  ii.  282. 
give  out,  declare,  announce  ;   IV.  i.  23. 
good-year,   a   meaningless   expletive   of  doubtful   origin; 

II.  iv.  64,  191. 
graff,  graft;   V.  iii.  3. 


170 


grate,  fret,  irritate  ;  IV.  i.  90. 

green,  fresh,  new;  II.  i.  107;  IV.  v.  204. 

green-sickness,  an  anaemic  disease   of   young  girls;    IV. 

iii.  100. 

grief,  grievance,  wrong  ;  IV.  i.  69  ;  IV.  ii.  36,  59  ;  IV.  v.  204. 
guard,  trim,  deck  ;   IV.  i.  34. 

half-fac'd,  thin,  sharp-faced  ;   III.  ii.  283. 

half-kirtie,  short  kirtle  ;   V.  iv.  24. 

hang,  suspend,  arrest;   IV.  i.  213. 

haunch,  latter  end  ;   IV.  iv.  92. 

heat,  violence  of  action  or  anger  ;  IV.  iii.  27. 

heavy,  sad,  mournful;   V.  ii.  14. 

hempseed,  homicide  ;  II.  i.  64. 

hilding,  base  ;  I.  i.  57. 

Hinckley,  a  market  town  in  Leicestershire  ;  V.  i.  26. 

his,  its;  I.  ii.  133.    See  note. 

history,  narrate;  Shakespeare's  only  use  of  the  word  as  a 

verb;  IV.  i.  203. 

honey-seed,  homicide  ;  II.  i.  57,  58. 
honey-suckle,  Mrs.  Quickly  's   blunder    for   homicidal;  II. 

i.  56. 
humour,  one  of  the  four  fluids  of  the  body,  supposed  to  de- 

termine one's  physical  and  mental  qualities  ;  hence  disposi- 

tion, temperament,  caprice  ;  II.  iii.  30. 
humorous,  moody,  capricious  ;  IV.  iv.  34. 
hunt  counter,   a  hunting  term,   on  the  wrong  scent  •* 

track;   I.  ii.  102. 

hurly,  tumult,  commotion;  III.  i.  25. 
husband,  husbandman;   V.  iii.  12. 

imp,  child  ;   V.  v.  46. 

indiff  erency,  moderate  size  ;   IV.  iii.  23. 

insinew,  join,  ally  ;  IV.  i.  172. 


171 

instance,  proof,  illustration;  III.  i.  103;  IV.  i.  83. 
intelligencer,  messenger;   IV.  ii.  20. 
intend,  tend;  I.  ii.  9  :  signify;  IV.  i.  166. 
intervallum,  interval;   V.  i.  90. 
inward,  civil ;  III.  i.  107. 
it,  its;   I.  ii.  131. 

jade,  a  mare;   I.  i.  45. 

join'd  stool,  a  kind  of  folding  chair ;  II.  iv.  269. 

Jordan,  chamber  pot ;  II.  iv.  37. 

just,  even,  equal ;  IV.  i.  226 :  true,  V.  iii.  127. 

juvenal,  youth;  I.  ii.  21. 

ken,  view,  sight;   IV.  i.  151. 

kickshaw,  a  fancy  dish ;  V.  i.  29. 

kindly,  natural ;   IV.  v.  84. 

kirtle,  a  woman's  garment,  probably  a  skirt ;  II.  iv.  297. 

'larum-bell,  alarm  bell;  III.  i.  17. 

lavish,  unrestrained,  licentious;   IV.  iv.  64. 

leather-coat,  russet  apple;   V.  iii.  44. 

leman,  sweetheart,  mistress;    V.  iii.  49. 

level,  just, "equitable ;   II.  i.  124:  agreeable;  IV.  iv.  7. 

lie,  lodge;   III.  ii.  299;   IV.  ii.  97. 

liggens,  possibly  a  perversion  of  lifekins;  V.  iii.  69. 

like,  thrive,  be  in  good  condition ;   III.  ii.  92. 

limb,  member;   V.  ii.  135. 

line,  to  pad  or  protect  as  with  a  lining ;  hence  to  strengthen 

sustain;   I.  iii.  27. 
lodge,  harbor ;   IV.  v.  208. 
look  beyond,  misjudge ;  IV.  iv.  67. 

malmsey-nose,  red-nosed;  II.  i.  42. 
malt-worms,  topers;  II.  iv.  361. 


mandrake,  the  forked  root  of  this  plant  was  supposed  to 

resemble  the  human  figure ;   I.  ii.  16 ;   III.  ii.  339. 
mare,  nightmare ;  II.  i.  83. 
mark,  a  coin  worth  13$.  4d. ;   see  note,  II.  i.  35. 
marry,  a  common  expletive,  derived  from  the  name  of  the 

Virgin;   I.  ii.  221. 

mechanical,  belonging  to  mechanics ;   V.  v.  88. 
metal,  mettle,  the  two  spellings  and  the  two  meanings  were 

used  interchangeably;    I.  i.  116. 
mete,  judge;    IV.  iv.  77. 
moe,  more ;  I.  ii.  5. 

more  and  less,  high  and  low ;   I.  i.  209. 
much,  an  expletive;   II.  iv.  143:   used  ironically;   III.  ii. 

142:   an  intensive;    IV.  iv.  111. 
mure,  wall  (of  flesh)  ;   IV.  iv.  119. 

neaf ,  fist ;  II.  iv.  200. 

nice,  effeminate,   delicate;   I.  i.  145:   trivial,  IV.  i.  191. 
noble,  a  gold  coin  worth  6*.  Sd. ;  II.  i.  167. 
noise,  music  or  band  of  musicians;   II.  iv.  12. 
note,  account,  bill;   V.  i.  19. 

nut-hook,  a  derisive  term  applied  to  a  beadle  because  he 
carried  a  catch-pole;   V.  iv.  8. 

observance,  reverence ;  IV.  in.  16. 

observe,  treat  with  respect,  humor ;   IV.  iv.  30,  36,  49. 

o'er-post,  get  over  quickly;   I.  ii.  171. 

o'erset,  overcame;   I.  i.  185. 

offer,  threaten,  menace;  IV.  i.  219. 

office,  room;   I.  iii.  47. 

omit,  neglect;   IV.  iv.  27. 

opposite,  opponent ;  IV.  i.  16. 

ostentation,  manifestation,  outward  expression ;  II.  ii.  54. 

ouch,  ornament ;  II.  iv.  53. 


173 


ousel,  blackbird  ;  III.  ii.  9. 

overscutch'd,  the  meaning  is  doubtful;    "whipped  at  the 

cart's    tail"   and    "outworn"  are    suggested;    III.    ii. 

341. 

overween,  think  too  proudly,  presume;   IV.  i.  149. 
owe,  own  ;   I.  ii.  4. 

pantler,  servant  in  the  pantry  ;   II.  iv.  258. 

parcel,  portion,  detail  ;  IV.  ii.  36. 

parcel-gilt,  partly  gilt;   II.  i.  94. 

part,  act,  deed  ;   IV.  v.  64. 

passing,  surpassingly,  exceedingly;   IV.  ii.  85. 

peascod-time,  when  peas  are  in  the  pod;   II.  iv.  413. 

persistency,  obstinacy;   II.  ii.  50. 

picking,  trifling,  trivial  ;  IV.  i.  198. 

point,  stop,  end;  II.  iv.  198:  a  tagged  lacing  for  fastening 

portions  of  the  clothing  ;    I.  i.  53  :    probably  also  lace 

used  on  uniforms  to  denote  rank  ;  II.  iv.  143  :  a  musical 

signal  or  call  ;   IV.  i.  52. 
post,  post-horse;   IV.  iii.  40. 
pottle-pot,  two-quart  pot  ;   II.  ii.  84  ;   V.  iii.  68. 
pox,  a  common  expletive  ;  I.  ii.  273. 
precept,  summons,  warrant;   V.  i.  14. 
pregnancy,  quickness  of  wit  ;  I.  ii.  192. 
prevent,  see  note  on  I.  ii.  259. 
price,  value,  worth;   V.  iii.  100. 
prick,  mark,  or  check  in  a  list  ;  II.  iv.  359. 
Preface,    a    salutation    before    eating,  from   Old    French 

prouface,   prou  fasse,   an   abridgment  of  bon  prou  was 

fasse,  may  it  do  you  good  ;   V.  iii.  30. 
project,  idea,  expectation  ;   I.  iii.  29. 
proof,  good  result  ;   IV.  iii.  97. 
proper,  own;   V.  ii   109. 
propose,  suppose,  imagine;   V.  ii.  92. 


174 

purchase,  in  the  legal  sense  of  acquisition  by  one's  own 
act  instead  of  by  inheritance ;  IV.  v.  200. 

quantity,  piece,  fragment;   V.  i.  70. 

quean,  a  derogatory  term  for  a  woman ;  II.  i.  51. 

queasiness,  nausea,  qualms,  disgust ;  I.  i.  196. 

quittance,  requital,  return;   I.  i.  108. 

quiver,  nimble,  active;  III.  ii.  301. 

quoit,  pitch  like  a  quoit;   II.  iv.  206. 

ragged,  rough;   I.  i.  151:   beggarly,  base;   V  ii.  38. 
recordation,  record,  memorial;   II.  iii.  61. 
remember,  mention,  remind;   V.  ii.  142. 
respect,  consideration,  regard;   I.  i.  184. 
rigol,  circlet,  crown;   IV.  v.  36. 
rood,  cross;  III.  ii.  3. 

sack,  sweet  wine  from  Spain  and  the  Canary  Islands;  IV. 
iii.  124. 

sad,  sober,  serious;   V.  i.  92. 

scab,  a  term  of  contempt ;   III.  ii.  296. 

sect,  kind,  sex;   II.  iv.  41. 

semblable,  similar,  like;    V.  i.  73. 

set  off,  cast  off,  ignored ;   IV.  i.  145. 

sherris,  sherris-sack;  sherry,  sack  of  Xeres;  IV.  iii.  103, 
111. 

shift,  change  clothing;   V.  v.  23. 

shot,  shooter;   III.  ii.  295. 

shove-groat  shilling,  a  shilling  used  in  the  game  of  shove- 
groat,  a  diminutive  form  of  shovel-board,  originally 
played  with  a  groat;  II.  iv.  206. 

sights,  eye-hole  in  a  helmet;   IV.  i.  121. 

single,  foolish,  silly;   I.  ii.  207. 

slops,  breeches ;  I.  ii.  34. 


175 

smooth-pates,  evidently  a  reference  to  a  fashion  of  hair- 
dressing  later  derided  as  "  round  head  " ;  I.  ii.  43. 

sneap,  reproof,  snub;   II.  i.  133. 

something,  somewhat ;   I.  ii.  211 ;  IV.  ii.  80. 

sortance,  accord;   IV.  i.  11. 

state,  majesty;   V.  ii.  132. 

stiff-borne,  obstinately  maintained;   I.  i.  177. 

stomach,  courage,  pride;  I.  i.  129:  appetite;  IV.  iv. 
105. 

stratagem,  dreadful  event,  calamity;   I.  i.  8. 

stray,  stragglers;  IV.  ii.  120. 

studied,  inclined;   II.  ii.  9. 

success,  succession ;  IV.  ii.  47. 

successively,  by  right  of  succession ;   IV.  v.  202. 

suffered,  allowed;   II.  iii.  57. 

suggestion,  evil  report,  insinuation;   IV.  iv.  45. 

sway,  swing,  rush;   IV.  i.  24. 

swinge,  whip;   V.  iv.  21,  23. 

swinge-buckler,  swash-buckler,  roysterer;   III.  ii.  24. 

ta,  thou;   II.  i.  63. 

tables,  memorandum  or  notebook;    II.  iv.  289;    IV.  i. 

201. 

take  up,  raise,  levy ;  II.  i.  199 ;   IV.  ii.  26. 
taking  up,  obtaining  on  credit ;   I.  ii.  46. 
tall,  lusty,  valiant;   III.  ii.  67. 
tap  for  tap,  tit  for  tat;   II.  i.  206. 
tester,  sixpence;    III.  ii.  296. 
thews,  brawn,  muscle;   III.  ii.  276. 
tilly-fally,  an  interjection  equivalent  to  "nonsense";  II.  iv. 

90. 

traverse,  march;   III.  ii.  291. 
trimmed,  adorned,  provided  with;  I.  iii.  94. 
truncheon,  cudgel,  club;  II.  iv.  154. 


i76 

unseasoned,  unseasonable ;   III.  i.  105. 
upswarm,  assemble  in  swarms ;  IV.  ii.  SO. 
utis,  see  note,  II.  iv.  21. 

vail,  abate,  lessen ;  I.  i.  129. 
vain,  foolish;   V.  v.  48. 
varlet,  servant;   V.  iii.  13. 
vaward,  vanguard;    I.  ii.  199. 
venture,  hazard,  risk ;   Epil.  8,  12. 
Vice,  grasp,  clutch;   II.  i.  24. 
virtue,  strength,   power;   IV.  i.  163. 
virtuous,  potent;   IV.  v.  76. 

wanton,  luxurious;   I.  i.  148:  frivolous;   IV.  i.  191. 

warden,  staff  of  office ;   IV.  i.  125. 

wassail  candle,  a  candle  used  at  a  feast,  and  apparently 

not  of  the  best  material;   I.  ii.  178. 
watch-case,  sentry-box,  III.  i.  17. 
whipping-cheer,  whipping-fare ;   V.  iv.  5. 
whoreson,  a  noun  and  adjective  that  had  lost  its  original 

significance  and  was  applied  with  the  looseness  of  a 

popular  expletive;   I.  ii.  16. 
winking,  closing  the  eyes ;   I.  iii.  33. 
withal,  with;   IV.  ii.  95. 
womb,  belly;   IV.  iii.  24. 

Woncot,  Woodmancote,  a  village  near  Stratford ;  V.  i.  42. 
wo't,  wouldst;  II.  i.  63. 

yeoman,  bailiff's  officer;  II.  i.  5. 


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